


Burning Red

by florgi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, every one shot is independent from the others, pairings and characters to be added, particular tags for each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florgi/pseuds/florgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They [the moments we always go back] are the moments you saw sparks that weren’t really there, felt stars aligning without having any proof, saw your future before it happened, and then saw it slip away without any warning. These are moments of newfound hope, extreme joy, intense passion, wishful thinking, and in some cases, the unthinkable letdown. And in my mind, every one of these memories looks the same to me. I see all of these moments in bright, burning, red."<br/>-Taylor Swift's prologue to "Red" </p><p>This is a collection of one-shots inspired on each track of the album "Red" by Taylor Swift.</p><p>Last track: 18- Come Back... Be Here... (Marc Bartra/Thiago Alcántara)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. State of Grace (Cristiano/James)

**Author's Note:**

> Full prologue here: http://sparksfly.tumblr.com/post/33963922069/taylors-prologue-to-red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You come around and the armor falls  
> Pierce the room like a cannonball  
> Now all we know is don't let go"  
> -State of Grace
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: fluff, no dialogues,   
> Words: 633

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/stateofgrace.html)  
> 

Cristiano had made a lot of mistakes over his life. Some were greater than others, some with worse outcomes than others. He had carried a heavy heart full of past loves around for too long. He had carried a world of pressure on his shoulders for too long. Cristiano has always felt too late or too out of time. And whenever he looked back, all these things were haunting him, weighing his every day and reminding him that he had failed in the past and he most definitely will fail in the future too.

New beginnings were an impossible idea when you felt your past clinging to your present like a heavy anchor.

But then he appeared out of nowhere, right into his life. Cristiano never saw him coming, wouldn’t been able to even if someone had warned him. One day James was there, his smiles and blushing face and that deep voice that didn’t quite fit his childish face. And the Portuguese man couldn’t have known it or expected it, but his life would never be the same after that.

They were small things at first. James would make him laugh during training even if he was feeling miserable that day. Or the Colombian would hug him and maybe kiss his cheek on the locker rooms after a good victory without any kind of warning. They were small things at first and then Cristiano was met with a shy James not knowing if he should take a sit on the expensive sofa of Cris’ living room. And soon enough it was James the first one (and in most cases the only one) to calm him down after a tough game, even if they had lost and the younger man had to hold back his own tears.

They were small things at first, but even when they were small and apparently insignificant Cristiano felt how his carefully crafted armor started to crack. And he felt scared but yet so intrigued by it. The fear pounded heavy on his chest but there was also something else burning there. It was something that felt like the prologue of freedom, or chains that were being broken, or feelings that were fading and some new that were being created. Cris might have felt deadly scared yes, because he had shut himself to new beginnings a long time ago. But at the same time there was this feeling like healing burning bright and gold inside him. And it only grew stronger whenever James was around.

He didn’t kiss James first. It was the other way around. But the Colombian was still shy even after Cristiano kissed him back. When they parted James took a step back and stared at the floor with a worried expression.

And Cris had long decided not to do this anymore, because relationships with team mates had always fucked things up for him and the other person. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was the reminder that so many things have gone wrong and so many things could go just as bad this time. But James was there, standing right in front of him with cheeks flushed a delicious tint of pink and eyes wide and sincere looking at him through his eyelashes.

Cristiano felt his heart racing as he placed his hand on James’ face, caressing sweetly the blushed skin. The Colombian tilted his head up a little and looked at him straight into his eyes and Cris could feel the heavy and dark past vanishing and being replaced by the exciting emptiness of things to come, the things that hadn’t happened yet. He kissed James and there was no used on fearing for old mistakes because for the first time Cristiano was feeling like the whole world was starting anew.


	2. Red (David Villa/Lionel Messi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes  
> Tell myself it's time now, gotta let go  
> But moving on from him is impossible  
> When I still see it all in my head  
> In burning red  
> Burning, it was red"  
> -Red
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: kind of one-sided, long-distance "relationship", villa is married and has his daugters, angsty,  
> Words: 1219

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/red.html)  
> 

David tried to go downstairs as silently as possible; he didn’t want to wake up the girls. The house was dark but he already knew his way around and in less than a minute he was lying on the couch of the living room, a pillow pressed softly over his face and a hand dangling over the coffee table holding tightly his mobile.

He couldn’t do that. He seriously shouldn’t.

David threw the pillow away and checked the time again. It was almost two in the morning; it would be even later in Barcelona. He tried to do the numbers. Maybe it wasn’t such an unappropriated hour to call him anyway.

Before he could stop himself he wandered through his contacts until he found Leo’s. His thumb stayed there, at mere millimeters over the screen but not touching it yet. What the hell was he doing?

But then he remembered. There was no point in denying he had woken up because he was dreaming of Leo. It was useless to tell himself he was not dying of longing, that he didn’t want to see the younger argentine, feel his touch and his lips.

David closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pressed the call button.

The seconds went on forever between tone and tone and David started to regret his decision. What was he aiming with this call? He was there on the living room of his home, his wife and daughters sleeping upstairs, calling a man that was most probably sleeping with his own girlfriend on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

David knew that the sensible thing to do was hanging up. Hanging up and then text Leo at a more normal time that her daughter had been playing with his phone and called him by mistake or something like that. It was the best for him, for Leo, for their families. Yes, he was going to do that.

He moved his hand, placed the little screen in front of him and was about to end the call when he noticed that someone had just picked up on the other side of the line.

“David? ¿Estás ahí?”

David breath hitched and he had to force the words out of his mouth. His world had suddenly reduced to the sleepy voice coming out through the little speaker.

“Hola Leo.”

“Is everything alright?”

Leo’s voice sounded a bit like he had just woken up but it also had a clearly worried tone and David felt guilty.

“No, no… I mean; yes, everything’s fine. I’m just…”

David didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

He knew that he thought about Leo every night before going to sleep. He knew that even if he had tried to let go of him Leo just kept spinning ‘round his head. He knew he missed playing with him, having sex with him, kissing him and just being around him. David never expected to felt like this about Leo, he had never felt something similar for anyone before. But with Leo things just happened naturally and viciously. David never realized he was standing on the very edge of an endless cliff and loving Leo was exactly that: the endless free fall, amusing, terrifying and oh so fucking addictive.

David knew damn well what he felt, but he wasn’t able to put it into words. Never could and probably never will.

“Guaje?”

Leo’s voice reached him through his phone and David bit his lips.

“I miss you”

And those three words were true and also such a big lie. Because sometimes the feeling was too big, too imperious, sometimes it was a longing deep and suffocating. The word ‘miss’ didn’t expressed the sinking feeling whenever he saw Leo speaking on an interview or playing on the TV, it didn’t even approximate to the gray feeling creeping under his skin and making every inch of his body ache.

“David…” Leo sighed and David remembered so many times when he had heard Lionel saying his name exactly with that tired tone, like he was about to explain a kid for a thousandth time that he could not have a new toy. “Isn’t it like three am there? You should go to sleep.”

David felt angry then because he truly missed him. Hell, he had woken up because his dreams were just too much. He couldn’t stand having Leo between his arms while dreaming and finding he was a continent apart when he woke up. He missed him so much it hurt, like everything in their relationship. And like it had always been while they were together, Leo was the impassive one. Always indecipherable, always too collected, always too calm. David recalled fighting with him and losing his nerves because he couldn’t stand Leo looking at him with wide and judgmental eyes but no words falling of his lips. David recalled screaming and breaking stuff and begging Leo for him to fight back, because maybe that way he could understand what was bothering Leo so much. Maybe that way he could have done things better. But Lionel would just mumble same old tired words, and tell him to let it be.

David was mad at Leo and at himself for letting the Argentine affect him so much. But when you feel too much anger sometimes pain comes just behind it, so when David spoke again tears were threatening to roll down his face and his voice was already strangled.

“Fuck you, Messi” And he was about to hung up. He should have done it. But then Leo shouted, called for him and David couldn’t help but wondering what had happened.

“Guaje I…” Leo breathed in and David knew what he was trying to say, could sense it even after so many months and so many kilometers. Leo was hard to fight but so easy to memorize and David knew him by heart. “David we shouldn’t… I… You’re…” The defeated sigh David was waiting for and then: “I miss you too”

The words were soft, barely audible, but David was surrounded by silence and his full attention was put into Leo so every little sound reached his ear-drum and with every little whisper that followed his heart grew bigger…

…and also broke a little.

He knew what was going to happen next, they both did. They would say sweet nothings to each other for a while and then Leo would make David promise not to call anymore. The Spaniard would get so angry at him that he will hang up without any other word. They would stay like that for a week or two, even three or a month if David was feeling strong enough, but inevitably David would find himself like that night again: lying on his sofa, clutching a cold phone against his ear like he would like to press Leo’s warm body to his chest.

David knew it already too well: moving out from Leo was impossible.

Because loving Leo was addictive even in the distance, because David could never regret meeting him for it to be like regret having found all he ever wanted, because their love was tragic but oh so great and because David’s memories will always bring him back to the starting point, every single scene playing in his mind tinted in bright and burning red.


	3. Treacherous (Messi/Neymar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Put your lips close to mine  
> As long as they don't touch  
> Out of focus, eye to eye  
> Till the gravity's too much  
> -Treacherous
> 
> Rating: Explicit  
> Tags: anal sex, kind of, a bit fluffy,  
> Words: 1860

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/treacherous.html)  
> 

Everyone knew how Leo and Neymar celebrated Barcelona goals; they hugged even if none of them had scored. But each celebration carried a small moment that only the two of them could perceive; a quick look, a fraction of a second, a silent conversation. It was a moment just for them and every match they would try to force that proximity, well aware of the whole world watching them but not caring at all because in the back of their minds there was the great need of kissing the other to celebrate properly.

It was risky as everything on their relationship but they wouldn’t drop it for anything.

The problem was that after some delicious victories or amazingly scored goals it was harder to restrain themselves from jumping on the arms of the other.

It wasn’t a surprise then that Neymar was attached to Leo’s neck as soon as they entered the lockers. But while Neymar was wild and impulsive, Leo was collected and calm. He wouldn’t let the Brazilian kiss him right there surrounded by all their team mates even if they all already knew about them. Lionel just hugged Neymar tightly and turned his head a little so the younger man kissed his cheek.

 _Later._ His eyes promised.

 _Now._ Ney’s eyes protested.

Leo just laughed, kissed his forehead and headed to the showers receiving some more congratulations from his team mates.

The thing was that Lionel always took his sweet time on the showers and Neymar was already kind of used to waiting for him. But right in that moment Andrés was leaving saying goodbye to the few players left and the Brazilian realized that there were only three people apart from him on the lockers. He was going to be left alone on the lockers again. He was not going to go through the experience again, had already once and almost died of boredom.

Ney headed to the showers under the amused sight of Dani Alves who catcalled in Brazilian while Adriano laughed loudly. He just ignored them and focused on finding Leo.

The Argentine was trying to dry his hair with a large white towel just like the one which was hanging loosely on his hips.  Neymar tried badly not to stare too much and failed miserably. He was interrupted by Leo’s soft voice that echoed a little on the empty room.

“Hey” He hung the towel on the wall of the shower and approached Neymar with a small and sweet smile. “What are you doing here? Your fancy shoes are getting wet”

Ney looked down at his feet and realized that it was true. The floor was covered with water and his new shoes were getting wet all over but he really didn’t mind. He concentrated on Leo’s toes instead; they were impossibly white and contrasted with the dark tiles. But the pale skin was also covered with bruises of different colors and shapes. 

Neymar was considering offering to kiss the bruises better when Leo hooked his fingers on the loop of his jeans and pulled him in. He instinctively angled his head a little ready to kiss Leo but the contact never occurred. Ney tried to look at him but the Argentine was too close and his eyes couldn’t quite focus enough. He tried to step back a little but found out that Leo’s hand were now lying on his waist and putting enough pressure not to let him move at all. Leo’s lips quirked up in a complacent gesture.

“Do you know how much I want to kiss you sometimes?” Leo’s voice was soft and velvety. Ney placed his own hand on the smaller man’s neck. His skin was still a bit wet and little droplets kept falling time and time again from his hair.

“You kiss me a lot of times” Neymar replied dumbly. Leo laughed a little and leaned forward. Their lips were almost touching, there were just mere millimeters separating them. Ney could felt how his body reacted to Leo’s proximity, surging forward, looking for the contact with the warm and well known body. But Lionel tilted back his head and his laugh was airy.

A firm hand took hold of Neymar’s cheek and stroked it lazily while his lips were positioned again right over the Brazilian’s.

“Sometimes we’re on the pitch and I’d like to kiss you there so much.” His breath was collapsing directly over Neymar’s parted lips. The younger man was going crazy, his nails tracing a little path along the line of Leo’s back. “We’re so close sometimes I would have just to lean forward a little and I could kiss you in front of everyone. Sometimes you hug me and we’re so close, your lips are so close, Ney. You drive me crazy and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You can now.” Leo’s body was attracting him like gravity, as if Neymar was falling into him, and he couldn’t fight it anymore. Lionel couldn’t either.

“I know”

Their lips finally collided, Neymar’s mouth instantly opened more for Leo’s mouth to fight and explore and bit. Little moans left the Brazilian’s throat, one of his hands looking for some kind of support on Leo’s neck, the other wandering over his back, his nails sometimes scratching the soft flesh.

Ney gasped for air when Lionel found its way under his shirt and pinched his nipples. He could feel him smile against his neck before the Argentine started nibbling on his pulse point. The Brazilian groaned loudly and remembered that as far as he knew there were still people on the locker room. A wave of embarrassment washed over him and he was about to tell Leo to stop when the other man returned to his lips and kissed him wildly while his hips grinded on his leg.

“Leo there’s people…”

“Shh, I know.” Leo’s lips were pressed chastely over his. The Argentine looked at him fondly and smirked. “Let’s not make much noise then.”

Neymar wanted to laugh because this was Leo and that was so unlike him, but Ney wasn’t going to question him. Not when his hands were undressing him as if Neymar lacked of the will to do it by himself. Not when his hands were holding his waist just with enough strength to keep him near his body while moving to the shower. Not when Leo was caressing his skin and leading him wherever he wanted to go to do whatever he wanted to do. Neymar could never say no to whatever Leo’s hands ordered him.

Neymar gasped at the sudden cold tiles pressed to his back but forgot all about it when Leo kissed him again, hands roaming over his thighs. The Brazilian opened his legs for Leo to fit between them and to give him the cue to start doing something more. Leo smiled into their kiss and followed the way down his jaw to his neck and sucked and bit and almost left more than one hickey but Neymar didn’t mind. His mind was blurry and all full with LeoLeoLeoLeo.

 “Leo… Please…”

Lionel smiled at him and kissed his swollen lips ones more before dropping to his knees. Neymar looked at him with a mixture of shock and bother.

“No…” Leo started with his hand, kissing the head of Neymar’s dick and licking at it two or three times. The younger man bit his lower lip almost bringing blood and moaned heavily. Leo’s hands and mouth felt so good on him but he didn’t need that in that moment.

His own hand was placed over Leo’s and with trembling fingers he made Leo stop. Leo’s brown eyes were full of worry and Neymar had to kneel in front of him to kiss him sweetly. The kiss grew in intensity, their breaths hastened. Somehow they find themselves standing once again, Leo pressing Neymar’s body to the wall and thrusting his hips forward looking for friction.

“I need you, Leo. Inside me.” Their lips were touching but not quite kissing, Leo was trying to form a figure out of Neymar’s blurry face but they were just too near.

“But I don’t… we don’t have lube or…” Neymar took hold of Leo’s waist and pressed him further to his body making him feel his erection. Leo groaned and hid his face in the crook of Neymar’s neck.

“Find whatever. I need you. Leo, please…” Every word was followed by a kiss on the Argentine’s neck and how was he supposed to say no?

So Leo found some shampoo. He made sure to prepare Neymar enough so he wouldn’t hurt so much, the Brazilian made an act of how _not_ to contain your moans. And when Leo finally thrust his cock in Leo find a spot on Leo’s shoulder to bit leaving a nasty bruise but doing its job to silence his scream. Leo fucked him quick and hard but his hands were sweet all over his body. His lips weren’t kissing him so much as they were checking on him, the older man clearly worried to hurt him. They reached their orgasm almost at the same time. Leo came inside Neymar and then helped him ride his orgasm with a firm hand pumping on his dick.

They were lucky to be inside the showers already because their bodies were a mess of sweat and cum and spit.

“Let’s have _another_ shower.”

Lionel smiled and somehow Neymar found the image of Leo like that the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His cheeks were still flushed bright pink and there were some growing purple marks over his neck and chest. There were also marks of nails and his stomach was still stained with Neymar’s sperm. And that smile, that beautiful smile that had reached his eyes and because of that the brown orbs were glistening and shinning. Neymar had to kiss him again. And again, and again, and again, and again.

\--

When Neymar looked back on everything he remembered people warning him about it; he remembered the advice of those who had lived a little more than himself telling him not to do it. Looking back on everything he even remembered his own guts telling him that there was great danger on what he was doing; but that fear that was trying to push him back was the same that told him that he should give it a try, that nothing safe is worth living if you never take risks.

So he let himself feel; he let himself worship, and care, and worry, and later on he let himself love. And Neymar found gladly that Leo had decided to do the same.

It was reckless and crazy and way too dangerous. They knew that things could go wrong and ruin one too many things.  But Neymar would ask Leo to stay almost every night and their bodies would always know what to do to stay near the other.

They knew that they were standing on the very edge of an impossibly high skyscraper; the smallest wrong move would throw them inevitably down.

They knew all about it but decided to try it anyway.


	4. I Knew You Were Trouble (Gareth Bale/Cristiano Ronaldo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And the saddest fear comes creeping in  
> That you never loved me or her, or anyone, or anything"  
> -I Knew You Were Trouble
> 
> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Tag: one sided, angsty, James/Cristiano (secondary pairing), it could do a few more readings,  
> Words: 1576

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/iknewyouweretrouble.html)  
> 

“Can I give you a piece of advice?”

Gareth tore apart his gaze from Cristiano and focused his attention on the Sevillian man next to him. He still struggled a lot with Spanish so it took him a while to piece Sergio’s words into a meaningful unit.

“¿Consejo?”

“Sí, un consejo” Sergio placed a hand on his shoulder and with his head motioned to the general direction of Cristiano. Gareth’s cheeks turned slightly red. “Stay away from him”

That he could understand almost instantly and he almost choked. Words collided in his throat trying to tell Sergio that he wasn’t interested in that way, and also how did he know, and also why should he stay away at all (everything at the same time). But Gareth didn’t know half the words needed to say neither of those and Sergio would not understand a word in English. So he just opened his eyes wider and looked straight to Sergio’s eyes, then to Cristiano and back to his captain. A red blush covered his cheeks and finally his lips formed the one question he really wanted to ask.

“Why?” His eyes were glued to the grass and he could feel Sergio giving a little encouraging stroke to his shoulder.

"Cris is a great friend but an awful lover. It’ll be better for you. Just stay away, okay?” And with a final pat on his back Sergio disappeared. Gareth’s gaze drifted back to Cristiano dribbling on the other side of the pitch.

The thing was, it was not only Sergio telling him to stay away. He could sense it every time Cristiano was near. It was an intoxicating feeling that crept under his skin and left his whole body collapsed and confused and after the crisis was over his common sense would scream that it was too dangerous, that he should ran away as soon as possible. It wasn’t anything he said or anything he did, his sole presence was enough to captivate him.

...

 

Gareth knew it from the moment it all began: Cristiano’s world moved too fast, burnt too bright. Surviving it was an impossible task. Gareth knew he was making a mistake the first time he let his hands wander and discover soft skin covering toned muscles. Gareth understood from the very starting point that everything was going to hell without even reaching the heaven first.  But Cristiano seemed so oblivious to the obvious dangers, his smiles were so soft, his hugs so embriagating, it was almost like he didn’t care. The Welsh man decided he wouldn’t care either.

It felt too good.

Loving Cristiano so desperately was worst than being addicted to the strongest drug because he gave him so much without really giving him nothing. Cristiano would always be clear with his words, with his distance, with his limits. It was only work of a fool to take anything and everything he would give him with no requirements or conditions. Gareth was no fool but he was surely desperate.

(Probably in retrospective Gareth would scold himself for being so naive. Probably hindsight would give him the possibility to notice that in that moment he was vulnerable, almost fragile and definitely an easy catch.  The future would give him so much understanding on his poor decisions, but the present was all that Gareth got then, and his present was so lonely and so full of pressures he never stopped to think or consider how Cristiano could probably be playing him).

And it was great. No. It was more than great, it’s was brilliant, magnificent, outstanding. Their connection on the pitch was something he had never experienced before, he could sense Cristiano’s presence everywhere without even having to look at him. After each goal they celebrated together and his blood rushed through his veins faster than ever, their breaths collapsed against their skins and the proximity of their bodies never seemed to be enough. Their celebratory sex was something out of this world too. Gareth wasn’t exactly new to having sex with men but Cristiano pushed every boundary and made him feel a kind of pleasure he didn’t know could be felt at all.

But then for every match spent working together he started to feel his game being a lot less about himself, or the team, or the league; it was all about Cristiano. For every celebration on the pitch there was a poignant lack of recognition within closed doors, he eventually grew accustomed to a few words of encouragement and a pat on his back. And for every endless night of passion there was a cold morning with the stellar absence of kisses or any other kind of demonstrations of love (because there was no love to begin with and Cristiano had stated it perfectly clear when it all began).

Gareth couldn’t or didn’t want to see because it was still so great.

(Is possible then to realize that you are drowning when you are feeling so high at the same time?)

…

Some people say that you fell in love like you fall asleep, slowly and then all at once. Well, things go to hell just the same way.

Was it when they lost that one game which fucked things up for La Liga title? (He remembered needing the kind of comfort only a lover could give you and being left all alone in his room mourning his pain by himself) Was it when he tried to repproach Cris his lack of support? (That time he got a harsh “I don’t owe you that kind of things Gareth” as a reply) Was it when his game started to falter and suddenly their connection wasn’t quite the same anymore? (They were still good, he repeated to himself. It wasn’t over, they were still good, they still worked).

Gareth was surprised by the end of the season, la Décima, the celebrations and Cristiano’s announcement: He was tired of it all. (They were not good enough)

“It is not as enjoyable anymore, you know?” They were laying on Cristiano’s bed, soft and luxurious sheets crumpled and stained with cum and sweat. It was glamorous and miserable at the same time. “And I think you’re too much into us. Like… This was all for fun, for relief, remember? I think it’ll be better for us to leave everything here, don’t you think?”

Too fucking late, he thought. A silent nod was all he gave him in response and for the first time since they started meeting to have sex, Gareth stood up, gathered his stuff and left as soon as he got dressed; leaving a merely confused Cristiano who didn’t last much until he fell asleep.

…

The worst part of it all wasn’t losing him. It hurt and stung his chest, sometimes it made breathing impossible. It followed him everywhere and haunted him at nights. Losing Cristiano weighed heavy on his body because he devoted almost every aspect of his life to him.

He found himself wandering around asking himself time and time again what things hadn’t been influenced by Cristiano. He found himself crying because everything from the way he dressed, to his style of playing or the records and movies he had bought, everything had something to do with Cristiano. Suddenly he realized that Gareth Bale was a stranger and the despair was so overwhelming his world seemed to collapse around him.

The worst part was losing himself.

…

The World Cup soon was over, the new season started, a mixture of fear and excitement let him know he was still alive. Gareth started the new season with the clear determination of not repeating the same mistakes. He was no longer going to be fouled, not by Cristiano not by anyone else.

Maybe that same determination he was putting on not making all the bad choices again was the reason he realized what it was going to happen before anyone else could. Maybe it was just too obvious to anyone who cared enough to give it a second or two of thinking. Maybe he was still a bit obsessed.

James Rodriguez smiled widely at Cristiano Ronaldo and Gareth saw the story displayed in front of him as if it was an old movie he knew by heart.

For a moment he considered warning him, protecting the young man from a surely catastrophic year; but there was pride on his decision of not doing it. After all, he was the one taking his place and Gareth would never admit that he missed it a little.

So he smiled knowingly when the first marks on James’ neck and torso were visible for everyone on the lockers once his shirt was off, he fixed his eyes on their hugs on the pitch, the kisses on cheeks the amazing assistances and wonderful goals.He observed it all and mentally compared the two timelines.

“That was an amazing goal” The Welsh complimented while exiting the showers. James blushed like every time someone told him something nice.

“It was all thanks to Cris’ pass really”

Gareth grinned and if James found something scary on his expression he didn’t mentioned it. Gareth congratulate him once ore and resumed his way to the lockers.

“Enjoy it while you can, Little James” He muttered to himself. “Enjoy it while you can”.

Gareth already got Cristiano figured it out, just as Sergio had told him, he was an awful lover because he never actually love anyone.


	5. All Too Well (Sergio Ramos/Fernando Torres)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much,  
> But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up.  
> Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well."  
> -All Too Well
> 
> Rating: Teens and Up  
> Tags: university au, or something like that, lots of angst, seriously, there's some fluff but basically angst, kind of sad ending, there's a neruda alussion in the last sentence, kudos if you recognize it, iker and sara are a couple here, and seriker friendship,  
> Words: 4478

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Listen to the song [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pl_TCyAqA3E)  
> Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/alltoowell.html)  
> 

Fernando opens the door and lets Sergio out. Autumn has settled in the capital city of Spain and the cold afternoons are already a normal thing. Sergio is buttoning up his coat when he listens to his boyfriend and his sister laughing behind him.

“What’s so funny?” A warm smile spreads on Sergio’s lips as Fernando reaches for his hand and pulls a bit until he can hide his face on the crook of his neck.

“Nothing, Mari’s just being stupid”

“Nando I won’t be inviting you two for dinner anymore.” The young woman smiles at Sergio but then her expression changes when a sudden breath of cold air blows her hair a little. She holds herself with one arm while pushing the two men out of the front porch. “Go away, I’m freezing here.” Mari Paz watches them walk the few first metres to the sidewalk and speaks again. “And Sergio. Please take care of him. He gets too caught up with his “I want to excel at fucking everything” attitude.”

Fernando is about to reply something when Sergio puts an arm around his waist and states firmly “I’ll make sure he has a life apart from those awful textbooks”

Mari Paz waves her last farewell and then goes inside slamming the door shut, probably running to find something hot to drink.

Sergio walks to Fernando’s car talking about all the great ideas Mari Paz had to make her little house look bigger and fancier. Fernando opens the passenger door for Sergio to step in, then get to his place and starts the car. They drive a little in silence before Fernando finally speaks again.

“Am I boring?”

“Kinda” Sergio barks of laughter. “But I like you like that, you know?” He turns on the radio and tries to tune some of those radios with the pop music Fernando never admits to like.

“Even when we don’t go out to a lot of parties or do stuff like that?” Fernando’s eyes are focused on the road and Sergio feels the need to kiss him.

“Even when I go to your apartment and I only get to lay beside you while you study for your exams.”

Fernando smirks and looks over to Sergio. “That’s because we always have sex when I’m done.”

“Exactly”

Sergio doesn’t realize they are staring at each other for too long but somehow he still notices the blatant red light ordering them to stop. He screams and Fernando stops the car just in time. They look at each other with wide scared eyes and then burst out laughing.

“You are going to kill me Nando, what the hell.”

“I am also the only one who drives you home so you better stop complaining”

“You don’t drive me home, asshole. You park your car on your apartment’s building’s garage and walk with me the rest of the way.”

“And then I have to walk back to mine!”

“Poor Fernando, you must be a saint.”

“Shut up!” Fernando tries to hit his shoulder and almost loses control of the car.

“You are going to kill us!”

Sergio keeps crying for his life the rest of the way home and Fernando threatens him with making him walk if he doesn’t shut up. Sergio lessens his complaints because Madrid in autumn is cold and even though the streets have changed its colours and look beautiful in shades of orange and yellow he doesn’t want to freeze out there.

Their fingers intertwine with ease as they walk really close to one another. Fernando tells Sergio about this scholarship he would like to apply to but that he doesn’t he think he would win it. Sergio rants about a guy on his Psychology class who never shut up and  always asks for other people’s notes on their facebook group.

They say goodbye on the doorstep of the building where Sergio lives. Fernando hugs Sergio for long seconds before letting go and when he places a kiss on his neck he realizes that his boyfriend is missing his scarf.

“I must’ve left it at your sister’s house”

“I’ll look for it tomorrow. Surely Mari Paz found it.”

Fernando kisses his cheek and tries to walk away but Sergio pulls him in for another kiss. He gets a bit carried away and starts kissing Fernando’s neck, his teeth tracing lines on the soft skin.

“I wish my roommates weren’t home tonight” Sergio whispers in his ear and feels Fernando getting aroused. He grins and starts dragging him inside the hall of the building. Maybe his room is full but they could always find some closet where they could hide.

“Sese, love, I have an exam tomorrow early in the morning and I should go to study”

Sergio groans and pushes Fernando away making him stumble a little.

“Go away and study hard. I hope you freeze before you get home”

“I love you too” Fernando blows a kiss and can’t help laughing a bit while starting to walk.

..

Sergio eventually gets tired of lying in the dark with his eyes glued to the ceiling or what he is able to see of it. Fernando likes to keep the curtains tightly shut and they are made of a thick material that won’t let a single bit of light come into the room. He looks over the sleeping body next to him, listens to his even breathing and decides to go to the kitchen for some warm milk.

Sergio is waiting for  his cup of milk to heat. In the middle of the night the only thing breaking the silence is the steading humming of the microwave and the minute and half that takes to heat the beverage seems to last forever. Sergio feels himself dozing a little so he focuses on the box Fernando left on the kitchen table earlier that day. Fernando’s mother had been over to have lunch and make sure that her son hadn’t invited some psycho to live with him. As some kind of souvenir or peace offer she had brought some of Nando’s old stuff that were still on their house. Sergio finds some old photos with a little Fernando smiling brightly to the camera. There is even one of Nando when he was a baby and Sergio takes a few seconds to examine the picture carefully.

Sergio senses him approaching even though Fernando is probably trying not to make noise. The hug from behind doesn’t take him by surprise. Rather he melts to his boyfriend’s touch and breaths in deeply. The familiar scent of Fernando’s skin has never smelled more like home. Sergio buries himself even more in his arms and sighs deeply when a kiss is pressed to his cheek.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Hmmm”

Fernando lays his cheek on Sergio’s shoulder and for a moment Sergio believes that Nando is going to fall asleep again like that. The microwave beeps and Sergio leaves the pictures that were still on his hands on the table and disentangles Fernando’s arms to be able to move and get his milk. Fernando is still half-asleep but he sees the pictures and smiles a little. He grabs them and goes to sit with Sergio who has just settled on a chair with the cup tightly held in his hands.

“Were you looking at these?” Fernando’s words are a little slurred because of the sleepiness but Sergio understands anyway and smiles.

“Yeah, it was nice of your mother bringing them” Nando leaves a soft chuckle. He’s looking at the pictures carefully.

“It was everything an excuse to finally meet you, I guess. I already have some old pictures like this one.” Fernando shows Sergio one pic where he was no older than six years old and it’s completely covered with mood, a scared expression on his face. “I’ve showed you pictures of this day, right?”

Sergio smiles and picks the picture to look at it better. Yes, Fernando showed him one picture really similar to that one and told him the story behind it.  Nando’s family has gone on holidays to somewhere in the countryside and he had fallen on a dirty lake. Fernando loves to tell Sergio stories about his childhood and his family, Sergio loves to listen to him. Sergio wonders if he’s ever going to be part of Nando’s anecdotes, if he likes to tell him so much about his past because he believes Sergio is going to be his future.

“Are you listening to me?” Sergio snaps back to the present and smiles sheepishly. Fernando shakes his head and gives him the pictures again. Sergio looks at the one on top and laughs.

“Your mum was telling me about this! Why on Earth did you ever play as a goalie? Were your coaches crazy?”

“I was like six years old! And I wanted to be like Israel and he played as a goalie…” Fernando shrugs but then kicks Sergio under the table because he doesn’t stop laughing. “Shut up, at least I could play for a few years on actual teams and not with my classmates at school or in the streets.”

“Oh fuck off, my friends could beat yours anytime.”

“Yeah just like Madrid beat us this season… How was the score on that match again? Oh yeah, 4-0 to Atleti!”

“What the hell does that have to do with us?”

“Nothing. I just like to remark that you lost to us. For four fucking goals, Sese. How cool is that?” Fernando stands up and goes to the fridge.

“You are so annoying. Why are we together again?”

“Because you make awful life choices. Like being a madridista and that haircut you got when you were younger. The long hair and that.” Fernando closes the fridge with his hip as his hands are full of ingredients to make a sandwich.

“Don’t talk about my life choices when you’re making yourself a sandwich at, what? Four in the morning?”

“You’re acting as if you’re not going to ask half of it for yourself.” Sergio smiles and leans back on his chair.

He watches Fernando prepare a sandwich while he keeps babbling about some essay for that scholarship he’s so keen on winning. Sergio hooks their feet together and smiles even more brightly when Sergio winks at him and starts caressing his calf with his bare foot. They talk lazily while eating and Sergio could drown happily on that little moment, just talking nonsense with Nando and enjoying the presence of each other.

“That doesn’t sound like a song I know”

Sergio gave up after humming the melody three times but he was sure he has heard that song while Fernando was driving him somewhere. Nando laughs at Sergio complaining because he really liked the song and goes to the fridge for something to drink. Right then Sergio screams and stands up singing something in a language that sounds a bit like English and even though he’s not exactly getting almost all the notes, Fernando recognizes the song. He’s almost sure it’s from Michael Bublé.

He turns around to tell Sergio that he already knows the song  when two strong arms grab his waist and pulled him chest to chest to Sergio. His boyfriend smiles and starts swinging them to the slightly out of tune song he keeps singing. Fernando can’t stop laughing and hides his face on Sergio’s hair but lets him move them around their kitchen anyway. Sergio finishes the song after repeating the chorus like three times more than needed and when he is finally silent, he pushes Fernando a little so he can look at his eyes.

“You are so dumb” Though Nando’s voice is soft and tender.

Fernando’s childish face is half hidden in the dim light of the kitchen and highlighted by the refrigerator’s light. Sergio strokes his cheeks and kisses the soft skin covered with freckles a few times before pulling apart and smiling like crazy.

“I know, but you are dating me so you are dumber”

Fernando laughs a little and presses their lips together. When they look at each other Fernando’s eyes are glistening and the smile on his face makes him look even younger.

“I know” He mumbles before kissing Sergio again.

\--

“It’s not that I don’t love him I just… I sometimes feel like he doesn’t care that much. Like… like it’s the same for him whether I am or not in his life.”

Sergio has his elbow place on the café table and his face resting on the palm of his hand. He’s looking at the empty cup of coffee in front of him waiting for Iker to give him his opinion. His friend was older and wiser and has known him for so long that he knows Sergio maybe even better than himself.

“Maybe he doesn’t care.” Iker’s words leave his mouth easily. Sergio’s sits straight as if someone has just hit him.

“Joder Iker!”

“What do you want me to tell you Sese? What I think or what you want to hear? Because I hate lying to you and I don’t want to start doing it now.” Iker’s eyes are firm but gentle, Sergio knows he is only trying to help. He only wishes there was nothing Iker had to help him with.

“No, no. I just wish everything was perfect again, y’know?” Sergio sees Iker’s mocking face and rushes to explain himself. “It was perfect, Iker! It was! Even if we fought sometimes. That’s normal, every couple fight sometimes. But it was…” Sergio bites his lips, he doesn’t want to cry in a café in front of all those strangers. “It felt like I belonged. It felt like home and now…”

“Shh, calm down.” Iker holds one of his hands and gives them a little stroke so Sergio would look at him. He is so obviously sad to see him like that. Sergio feels even worse. “Maybe is just a crisis and you’ll get over it soon. Don’t worry, Sese.”

\--

“You are going where?”

Sergio feels dizzy and his hands clutches the soft fabric of their sofa. Fernando, on the other hand, is looking at him with wide and calm eyes, his hands perfectly folded in front of him. Sergio wants to scream but his throat is strangled because of the need to cry.

“To London. In Englan…”

“I FUCKING KNOW WHERE LONDON IS!”

Fernando finally flinches, to Sergio’s pleasure. He can’t possibly be the only one hurting. He bites his lips trying to contain the tears.

“What do you mean you are leaving? Just like that?”

“Sergio I’ve told you about this scholarship a thousand times, it’s a great opportunity for my career and…”

“And what about me?” Fernando stays silent and after a few second he can’t hold Sergio’s stare anymore. “Did you ever think about me? When you were planning this great opportunity or whatever shit you call it, did you think about me?” Sergio hits the coffee table and covers his face. “Joder Fernando. We’ve been together for almost two years…”

They don’t speak for a while. Sergio bring his legs closer and curls himself in a ball. At the other end of the sofa Fernand is looking at him with his shoulders hunched.

“Are you coming back to Spain? Ever?”

“At least not for four or five years if everything goes well…” Sergio’s face contorts in pain as if someone had punched him. “That’s the other thing I had to tell you…” Sergio looks at him and somehow he already knows what’s coming. He doesn’t even blink when Fernando speaks again. “I won’t be renting the flat any longer so it should be empty before September starts because that’s when I’m leaving. I’m sure you can... Sergio? Sergio!”

Sergio decides he’s had enough. He’s at what used to be their room before Fernando calls him a third time. He packs some clothes without giving Fernando time to complete four sentences.

If Fernando were writing one of those essays Sergio had read thousand times to help him with the correction it would have taken him less than a paragraph to narrate how Sergio left his place: a bag on his shoulder, some textbooks in his hands and an awful and heavy amount of memories burning in his chest.

\--

“Sergio” A gentle voice brings Sergio back to the real world. His eyes open a little and through his eyelashes he can see the feminine face smiling fondly at him. “Iker told me to wake you up before going to work. Is it okay?”

“Yeah, yes” He yawns while sitting on the couch, the thin comforter that covered him during the night falls to the floor. “Thank you, I seriously need to start studying.”

Sara smiles again, reaches down for the comforter and leaves it on the coffee table carefully folded. Sergio can’t help the awkward feeling creeping to his chest. He stands up and hurries to the downstairs bathroom. Sergio splashes his face with cold water and hears Sara looking for her keys and coat before opening the door.

“Have some breakfast! There’s coffee left!”

“I will! Thank you again for waking me up!”

Sergio barely hears the reply as the woman closes the front door on her way out.  He looks at his reflection on the mirror and regrets it instantly. The dark circles under his eyes and his messy hair makes him look even more miserable than how he feels. And he feels awful.

After putting some clothes on and arranging the living room so it doesn’t look as his temporary room anymore he sits on the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand. He stares at the date on his phone in disbelief. Some tears come to his eyes as he remembers Iker telling him to stay over as much time as needed. How long ago has that been?

Sergio lays his head on the table and covers it with his hands. He stays there for a while, concentrating on breathing and putting himself together. It takes him long minutes to sit straight again because every inch of his body seems to weigh tons. He wanders around the living room  gathering the books he had meant to take notes from for a week and arranges everything on the small dining room table. He didn’t want to trouble Iker when he arrives to make lunch.

Reading is hard but not as painful as moving so he settles on a chair with the yellow highlighter he dislikes the most but which was the one he first reached on his bag, and pushes himself through the monotonous pages.

Sergio thinks he’s having troubles measuring time because he is barely on the  third page when Iker arrives from work. He tries to sits a bit better and put on a more decent look for Iker. He is probably going to be happy to see him doing something, Sergio thinks. He even composes a good enough smile that falters immediately when he sees his friend carrying two apparently heavy boxes on his hands.

Iker leaves the boxes on the table next to Sergio’s notepad and he looks over his friend with sorry eyes and eyebrows furrowed together with worry.

“These should be the last ones. We didn’t left that much stuff!”

Sergio is no longer looking at Iker, or the boxes. His eyes are glued to the few notes he has just taken. They didn’t seem to mean anything, just lines with no meaning scribbled on a striped piece of paper. He hears Iker taking a seat beside him and a heavy but comforting hand on his shoulder. Sergio bites back the tears.

“What’s on those?” He tries to swallow the knot in his throat even if it’s useless.

“I guess some clothes. The one on the top is not really heavy” Iker’s voice is soft and extremely gentle, as if he was trying his best not to make his words hurtful. The hand that was on Sergio’s should moves until he’s cupping the younger man’s face. Iker forces Sergio to look at him. “Sese, It’ll be okay. I promise it will.”

The first tear rolls down Sergio’s cheek and he can’t hold Iker’s gaze any longer. His eyes focus anywhere but his friend’s face until he hears him speak again. “You are allowed to cry, Sese. It doesn’t matter if it was months ago,” Sergio crumbles on his arms shaking his head while the tears stream down his face. His body is shaken by sobs and his breath becomes more difficult. Iker holds him tighter. “Of course you can cry.”

“I want to move on Iker. I’m stuck here.” Sergio’s voice barely is audible in between hiccups and sharp intakes of air.

“You don’t have to leave, Sergio. You are not a bother to us if that’s what you’re…”

“Yes I am!” His words are muffled on Iker’s chest but that doesn’t stop him from talking. “But that’s not… that’s not what I meant. I… I want to move on, Iker. I want to forget him. I don’t want to remember and staying with you just makes me think more that I’m here because I can’t forget him. I want to move on. I want to move on.”

\--

It is cold and it’s getting dark. Sergio reminds himself it’s going to be winter in a few weeks. He buttons up the last buttons of his coat and keeps walking, changing the bags with the groceries to his left hand. He makes a mental note to text Iker that he’s home safe and with enough food to survive the week. He and Sara have been all over him during the time he’s been living by himself on his really small flat.

He knows he’s supposed not to think these kind of things, and he’s been getting better at it, but he can’t help notice he’s walking home alone. Sometimes he forgets that remembering hurts a lot, even if it’s just a little fragment of a memory.

Sergio leaves the bag on the floor while looking for the key to open the door, he still struggles a lot with telling apart the key of the building’s doors and the one from his own apartment. The steps to the second floor are fast behind him and soon enough he’s welcomed with the warmth of his living room. Sara had thought that the place was claustrophobic and looked at the tiny windows in panic. Sergio thought it was the perfect shelter.

He puts the groceries away and looks for the notes he was revising before going shopping. His exams and assignments have improved a lot and working was no longer such an awful torture. Sergio is starting to find some balance and comfort on little everyday things, like going for a drink with his friends or visiting Sara when Iker is away and watching her bump slowly growing. He’s getting used to his new version of himself after finally realising it was useless trying to be his old self.

His phone rings while he is making dinner and that’s not really a strange thing. Neither is the fact that the screen reads an unknown number. He takes the call and places the phone between his ear and his shoulder trying to keep steering the soup on the stove.

“Hello, Sergio?”

Sergio feels how his body collapses, feels the mass of air stuck in his throat, feels his heart confused between beating faster or stopping working altogether. It takes him a while before he finds his voice and remembers how to use it but Fernando on the other line doesn’t seem to be bothered by the delay.

“What do you want?” Sergio hopes his words sound as strong as he intended them to.

“I, humm… Is everything, I mean… How are you?”

“How am I? Seriously Fernando?” Sergio starts walking because he wants to ignore the fact that his legs are shaking. He throws himself on the couch just over the clothes he’s been wearing outside.

“Look Sergio, I’m, I’m sorry, okay? I just… I think I miss you. I want to know how you are”

Sergio buries his face on the cushions and then rolls over his back. He tries to grab something as some kind of support and tangles his hand on a soft fabric. He rises his hand and finds the scarf he was wearing that afternoon. Sergio feels himself breaking while trying to compose his next sentence.

“You think you miss me? You…?”

“No! Sergio, okay, I miss you. I do. I was a fool, you know? And I miss you”

“You miss me. Now you miss me?” Sergio wishes fiercefully his voice is not shaking as much as himself. He breaths a few times trying to gather some strength. “Do you remember that first week? You’ve asked me to be your boyfriend and like two days after you took me to your sister’s house.” He doesn’t know if Fernando wants to say something about it but Sergio doesn’t give him time anyway. “I left my scarf there. I realized it when we were at my apartment and you told me you would ask her for it and give it to me.”

“Sergio I don’t...”

“And you did asked Mari Paz for it because I found it in your drawer when we… It was there and I never said anything because I thought it was sweet of you to keep a bit of me with you.” There Sergio notices Fernando is about to talk but he continues because he doesn’t want to stop until he’s done. “Then everything went to hell and you kicked me out and I swear I forgot about the stupid scarf. But you mailed back all the stuff I left at your flat. You mailed back fucking everything and never showed your face. I got everything back… everything but that scarf.”

Sergio doesn’t mind anymore if he’s crying or if Fernando notices it. He only knows he’s breaking himself but that’s the only way he knows of getting better, of letting go.

“You kept it for yourself and you still have it. Is it because you miss me? Is it really?”

“Sergio please don’t…”

“Don’t bother me anymore Fernando, it’s already hard enough to forget you.” Sergio sobs and bites his lips trying to contain his pain. “I remember it all too well, I want to forget but I can’t. So keep that scarf for yourself, I bet it still smells like me… is that why you can’t get rid of it?”

Sergio hears Fernando speaking but his words are only sounds with no meaning. He ends the call and throws the phone to the opposite wall. He covers his face with his hands and lets himself cry hard and painful, and wishes that forgetting wasn’t so long.


	6. 22 (Rafinha/Ter Stegen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time  
> It's miserable and magical."
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: gen, fluff, really marc-centric, the timeline it's approximate to real life events but i took some liberties, it's really vague anyway,  
> Words: 1582
> 
> ***this one's dedicated to Sophia (nikeneymar on tumblr) because she's always there when i need fanfiction related help (and it's general there for me too) xxxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Listen to the song [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7raDebrqoI)  
> Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/22.html)  
> 

_happy._

Marc Andrè signed the contract and it was like a wave of electricity flowed through his hand, up his arms straight to his chest. His heart was beating so hard for a moment he thought he might have an attack. But thankfully the rushing of his heartbeats was just product of the excitement. He shook the hands of the men in suits sit in front of him and rushed out of the room with his lawyer. His hands didn’t know what to grab or where to be placed. His eyes flicked quickly from the closed metallic doors of the elevator to the slowly descending numbers. The young goalkeeper couldn’t barely focus enough to drive safely home. But somehow he arrived in on piece. Marc ran inside, the door closed behind him as soon as he stepped into the living room. The next thing he knew was that he was screaming and jumping. He hugged his mum and his dad and run to get his phone to call his friends.

HE WAS GOING TO PLAY FOR FOOTBALL CLUB BARCELONA.

He had just turned 22 a few weeks ago and the energy of his youth was pumping loud and wild through his veins. For a good week his lips couldn’t form other expression but a smile. He was going to play for the team of his dreams. What could have been better?

_free._

Saying goodbye to Gladbach had been hard. Ever since Marc was a little kid, almost a baby, he has been part of his club. But he was well aware greater things were in front of him.  So he cried and hugged everyone. And on his last match he took one last long look to the emptying stadium and headed to the lockers without looking back.

The process of moving to Barcelona kept his mind busy and he managed to forget for a while the idea of being away home and everything he knew. Once he had found the apartment where he was going to live his growing nostalgia was even easier to ignore. There were lots of things to buy and to arrange. There were a lot of places to know and get familiar with. There was even a completely new language to learn.

Marc Andrè feared for the day he got to say goodbye for good to his parents and friends. Feared to miss them so much they became chains that tied them to Germany and wouldn’t let him move forward. The afternoon on the airport when he hugged them all for the last time in a few months he felt the weight of leaving them behind. The short flight to Spain was full of bitter thoughts and for a moment the desperation of being deprived of everything he knew drove him crazy. He didn’t want to feel chained.

Then they landed.

Barcelona with his clear summer sky was welcoming him with open arms and a spirit just as young as himself. Marc stepped out of the taxi and looked around getting acquainted with the setting. If he payed attention he could hear the soft rumour of the sea. He breathed in the warm air and his lungs were filled with familiarity.

The chains weren’t there anymore.

_confused._

Marc had expected a lot of things from his first months in Barcelona. Some of those things were good and some more were bad. But at any point he had thought he was going to felt so lost… and it was not just a matter of the language.

His life had changed almost in every aspect but Marc always knew football was going to remain with him. That was what eased the fear of facing this new world. But then he injured his back and Marc felt like he was going adrift. He couldn’t play in the first La Liga match of the season and it felt like he had lost his chance to be the first goalkeeper of the team. Football was no longer the shelter where he always found reassurance and that was exactly what he needed right then.

Not being able to communicate with his team mates and coach drove him crazy little by little. The words and structures he learnt on his classes weren’t effective or useful enough. His mind struggled with conjugations and dozens of words that meant the same but not really. Speaking was even harder. Sounds rolled of his mouth stronger or softer than needed and his tongue was never fast enough to be placed in the right way.

And above all, there was Rafinha. The young brazilian caught his attention from the first day. It was something Marc Andrè had never quite experienced and therefore he couldn’t understand it nor even name it. But there was something about Rafa that captivated him. The German goalkeeper pondered about this late at night when the thought of Rafinha came to his mind. His smile and his laugh and his voice speaking slowly so he would have time to understand what he was saying. His tanned skin exposed after a long training, the muscles of his back, the hugs celebrating goals when they were both in the bench. His chest felt strangely compressed when he thought about it all. And Marc didn’t know (or didn’t dare) how to call the feeling he got when the brazilian tackled him in the middle of a training babbling in Portuguese to make him mad and laughing at the same time.

Time passed, though. And his back injured got better and he started playing at Copa del Rey and Champions League matches, it wasn’t ideal but at least those matches were his. Spanish got better too. Luckily for him there was Ivan Rakitic who could speak German and Spanish almost as well as Croatian, his mother tongue. Ivan helped him to make some sense of the babbling of their teammates and the orders of Luis Enrique and somewhere along the way Marc realized it was a bit easier.

But Rafinha was still an enigma. Months passed but Marc still didn’t know how to call those warm and loving brown eyes, those hugs that seemed to circled his whole words and that smile that felt too much like home.

_lonely._

Marc was never a guy who was surrounded by thousand of friends. He had two or three who were his closest ones and then few more people that knew him well and with whom he shared some things, like the majority of his former teammates at Borussia Mönchengladbach. And even though he had always enjoyed spending time on his own and was content with his small group of friends back in Germany, he started to suffer being so lonely in Barcelona.

After his first defeat being on the net he wished madly to had someone on his apartment waiting for him to comfort him with hugs and kind words. His friends or his parents on the phone weren’t enough. He needed somewhere physically there to be with him.  

Sometimes the loneliness was too much and the walls of his apartment seemed to expand and echo the sound of his steps and the sounds of the television and it was like he was the only person in the world. The feeling of being alone oppressed his throat and clasped his chest and in those moments he had to run away to somewhere full of people so he wouldn't feel asphyxiated anymore. It was in one of these escapes when he bumped into a much familiar face.

“Hey calm down, did something bad happened?” Rafinha smiled at him encouragingly and placed a hand on his shoulder to try to calm him down. Marc Andrè focused his attention on trying to breath normally and smiled a little in return. The Brazilian looked at him for some long second, locked his left arm with Marc’s right one and dragged him to a near café.

They sit there and Rafa ordered some drink that apparently had a lot of chocolate in it. Marc felt relieved and confused. The feeling on his stomach that appeared whenever Rafinha was around was dancing inside him and suddenly he realized the rush of his heart had nothing to do with his previous freaked out anymore.

“So…” Rafa started once the drinks had arrived. “What’s going on Marc?” His Spanish was slow and carefully pronounced even though Marc had got a lot better in understanding the spoken language.

“I’m… I feel like I’m too… too alone. And sometimes it’s too much, you know?” He felt like the dumbest person ever and the feeling got even worse when Rafinha smiled a little. For a moment Marc thought he had probably mistaken some words but then the Brazilian too his hand that was over the table and squeezed it a little.

“I know the feeling. It’s awful.” Marc turned around his hand so he could hold it a little too. Rafinha smiled a bit more. “You can talk with me, if you want. I know Ivan understands German but I’m a good listener if you feel like speaking in Spanish.”

Marc knew how to say “thank you” in four languages if you counted Català, but none of those words came to his mind. He placed his free hand over Rafa’s and looked at him straight to his eyes. Then he realized he didn’t need the words and that he didn’t feel as lonely anymore.

 


	7. I Almost Do (Piqué/Fábregas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I just wanna tell you  
> It takes everything in me not to call you.  
> And I wish I could run to you.  
> And I hope you know that every time I don't  
> I almost do."  
> -I Almost Do
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: angsty, gerard writes cesc an email, settled somewhere around the time gerard return to barcelona, but it's quite vague on purpose, you can make anything you want of it really, oh and it's really short too, leo is mentioned a few times, in case you are interested lol,  
> Words: 873

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Listen to the song [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ee8_8FumLTU)  
> Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/ialmostdo.html)  
> 

_Sundays nights are the perfect time to commit acts out of madness. Gerard looks at the city of Barcelona and then his eyes drift back to the computer on his desk. The bright screen is the only source of light in the room and Gerard would have feel scared of the dark a few years before. He pushes himself off the floor and sits in front of the computer. A blank space waiting for an email to be written is what he finds. For God knows how many times in that night his fingers start typing and his feelings start flowing. He can already feel some tears coming to his eyes and he silently curses Leo because this was all his idea._

> Cesc:
> 
> You’ve probably forgotten a lot of things but I’m sure you remember Leo can be a pain in the ass. So let me get this clear: I’m writing this because of him. I wasn’t going to call so he thought at least I had to write this mail to you and he wouldn’t shut up about it. Stupid Leo. So… Hi, I guess. I mean, is not like I really want to talk to you. I’m still mad. And no, the fact that we haven’t seen each other in so long doesn’t help at all. Why the hell did you do it? Like, we were supposed to make it together, remember? We were getting to Barca together. But you had to leave to play in England, and you just went away and never say goodbye… and never answered my question. Were you afraid? Are you still afraid?
> 
> I’m seriously putting my best to keep writing this because I seriously don’t want to. I bet you don’t know I’ve tried to contact you before. The first few times you ignored me and then I just gave up the minute before calling. And I watched you on television and Leo sometimes talked about you but I just couldn’t bring myself to call you. Leo told me that I should do it but I always thought that it was you the one that should make the call. After all, it was you the one that run away after we kissed… Sometimes I regret that stupid day so fucking much Cesc… Fuck! I would give anything to be able to re live that day and do things different so I won’t lose you again.
> 
> Do you miss me? Does it hurt you as much as it hurts me to be this apart? Not to talk or see the other for so long? Because Leo said so but I don’t quite believe it. I think you might think I forgot you. But I didn’t okay. If I don’t call you is because it fucking hurts. If I don’t go with Leo to visit you is because I don’t know if I can see you and hold myself from hugging you and kissing you. I freaking miss you so much Cesc. I would probably cry if I were to see you. Do you know that? Do you feel the same? I think I’ll never be brave enough to ask you.
> 
> I just… I would like to have the chance to talk to you like in the good old days. Drink something, watch a movie, whatever. I wish you kissed me too. I wish you weren’t so scared of it all. Or maybe that you wouldn’t mind being scared. Because let me tell you, when I kissed you that one time I was terrified. I still am if I’m being honest. But really, I just wish you were my friend again. I wish you could call me so we could talk again because I’m not brave enough to be the one to call first. Yes, I’m a coward. Leo thinks that I don’t call you because I’m too proud but in fact is because I’m terrified that you will reject me again. And every time the idea comes to my mind I almost do it. I pick the phone, dial your number and hang up before the call starts. I’ve started making my bags to go with Leo to England. I’ve open this email three times already and closed it all them three. I almost do it every time but every time the fear is stronger. But I hope you knew that I don’t hate you, I hope Leo told you so. I hope you knew about all of this.  I really hope you still care about me because… I still care a lot about you Cescky.
> 
> -Geri.

_The little arrow hovers over the “Send” sign for so much time that Gerard feels the muscles of his hand getting stiff and starting to hurt. He re-reads his words and his stomach makes a strange flip making him feel empty and whole at the same time. He can’t help noticing the “Cancel” button and his mouse moves a little. What should he do? His eyes start to itch from focusing them so much on the bright screen. He closes them and a shaky breath leaves his lips._

_Sundays nights are the perfect time to commit acts out of madness and either deleting or sending that email would be just another one of those._


	8. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together (Side Neymessi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I used to think that we were forever ever,  
> and I used to say: never say never"  
> -We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together
> 
> Rating: General Audiences (with a slight warning because of the drunk characters lol)  
> Tags: crack i guess, they are all heartbroken and at different stages of drunkness, relationships: iniesta/xavi, pique/cristiano, messi/kun, rafinha/ter stegen, ft neymar pinning over leo, disclaimer: not my best work,  
> Words: 1901

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/weareneverevergettingbacktogether.html)  
> 

It was not something planned really. Suddenly they were all gathered around Neymar’s living, one too many bottles of alcoholic drinks spread around the room and a bunch of heartbroken young men singing out of tune to some catchy pop song. The young brazilian looked around and smirked. He grabbed the nearest bottle and toasted for their stupid love lifes and received a chorus of pained voices.

“But why are we doing this? We are so dumb but…” Gerard’s words were slurred and struggled to come out of his mouth making any sense. His body was sprawled on the sofa as if he had no more energy to move himself anymore. “Why are we so sad?”

“Because, my dear Geri...” Leo lifted his body from the floor and let himself fall right next to his friend. His head immediately found Gerard’s shoulder and a long and strong arm was placed around the back of the little man. “...we are all so pathetic. So, so pathetic.”

Lionel started laughing hysterically causing all of them to laugh with him. Neymar could felt his heart aching a litte at the pained sound.

“We need some time, he said! He said that he needs some space! We haven’t seen each other for a whole fucking month! He just arrives from Argentina and the first thing he tells me is that we need to take a break!” Leo glares at the coffee table as if Sergio’s face was there. “Stupid Kun!” He kicks the table and hurts his feet and everyone laughs because really, what else was there to do?

Neymar laid his head on the coffee table and observed amused how Gerard’s eyebrows furrowed together as the Spaniard tried  to conjure his next sentence.

“You know who’s more stupid?” He finally said. “Cris! And I’m more stupid because I love him. Yeah, stupid Geri!” He reached for a bottle of beer beside his leg that was already empty. His face of disappointment was something Neymar would have loved to capture in a picture. “Andresito! Can’t you please make some of your mojitos? Or anything really… I just…”

A new idea seemed to be forming on his head so Gerard stayed quiet for a few seconds. Lionel meanwhile started to disentangle himself from the taller man.  “You know what’s worst? He tells me he miss me. He says he’s gonna change. I say okay okay I believe it. But he doesn’t. Cris doesn’t change! ANDRÉS!”

The older man jumped at the sudden scream making some of the drink spill from the glass he was handing to Gerard.

“Yes, we all know Cristiano is a prick, Geri. Get over it. He’s been so since you met him.”

“You’re not nice Andresito but thank you for the drink.”

Andrés rolled his eyes muttering something and made Neymar laugh. The pale skin of the Spaniard’s face was tinted a bright red revealing that his grumpiness was half due to the alcohol in his organism. The Brazilian looked around again trying to actually understand what was happening in his house. Gerard was tilting his empty glass trying to get the last nonexistent drops of liquid. Andrés was serving something to Rafinha looking every two seconds to his phone trying to pretend he was not waiting for a message to arrive and Rafa was sprawled on the floor next to him, head resting on the cushions of the sofa apparently as comfortable as ever. Finally Neymar gave a long stare to Leo who had managed to move from the couch next to Geri to the floor. He spend a good minute taking in every little detail of his friend, who was listening attentively, or so it looked, to what Rafa was saying. He wanted to call Leo’s attention but he didn’t know what to do.

“Oh come on! Why are you all crying like big big babies!? Cheer up a little!” Only Andrés looked at Neymar and his clear eyes were so hard on him that Neymar wished he hadn’t spoken at all.

“Xavi left, Neymar. I don’t want to cheer up. He left… me.” Then the Spaniard’s eyes glued back to his phone. He handed in the glass he’d just poured to Rafa and threw himself to the sofa behind him. He clutched his phone near his chest and looked at the ceiling sighing.  “Kids these days…” Andrés’ words caught Gerard’s attention.

“Oh shut up, you’re not much older than us!” Geri tried to grab something to throw at Andrés but just managed to hit Leo. The Argentine tried to run away from Gerard but his attempt on standing up was a complete failure and he tripped with his own feet, landing right on top of Neymar.

“I’m s-sorry Ney, I didn’t mean…” Neymar bit his lip wishing Lionel couldn’t feel the beating of his heart and tried to move away so his friend could stand up or at least sit properly.

Gerard laughed loudly and Andrés joined him a little after once he decided the situation was funny enough to do so. Neymar cursed them because their laughter only made him more nervous and as a result he just made poor drunk Leo stumble one time and again until they both were lying on the floor, Leo’s face nestled in the curve of Neymar’s neck.

“Fucking finally Ney!” Rafinha half shouted clapping slowly.

“Shut it, Rafa, really” Neymar was trying to sit straight but Leo had given up a while ago and the young brazilian had to carry both weighs. After a bit of manhandling, he got the Argentine to sit on his legs, arms hugging him from his neck and his warm breath collapsing against his neck.

“Wait! I have a question!” Gerard’s voice startled them all. “Why are Rafa and Ney here?” They all looked at him as if he had gone crazy and then started laughing frenetically.

“This is my house you dork” Neymar could felt Leo laughing quitely against his sensitive skin and couldn’t help smiling a bit himself.

“Well… but what about Rafa?” The Spaniard looked deeply concerned and only made Neymar and Andrés laugh more.

“Aren’t we all wallowing our self-pity in alcohol?” Rafa stated simply and Gerard only nodded making the other three laugh a bit more. “That’s it”  And just like that Rafa headed to the kitchen with a certain difficulty and went back with a bottle of God-knows-what and poured some glasses full. He handed one to Andrés and sit on the armrest next to him.

Leo noticed Neymar was holding back a laugh so he lifted his lips and asked a soft “What’s happening?” right into Ney’s ear, plump lips touching the sensitive skin. The Brazilian forgot gor a while how was he supposed to breath.

“Gerard’s thinking” For a second Neymar feared having spoken too loud but his Spanish friend didn’t hear him at all.

“But Rafa you’re so young! You know nothing! Nothing… you… You’ll get over it! You are… you’re so young… so, so young-” Gerard sobbed a little and a few tears left his eyes. He wiped them but his body was still shaken by a few little sobs.

Leo struggled a little to free himself from Neymar’s arms but finally did it and half walked, half crawled next to Geri, climbed to the sofa and started petting his head to calm him down.

“I may be young but that doesn’t stop my boyfriend from being an asshole.” He drank his whole glass with one long sip and then rested his head in Andrés’ lap.

“What did Marc-André do? Should we hit him or something?” Andrés forgot for a few seconds about his phone and looked at Rafinha attentively.

The Brazilian shrugged and closed his eyes. “Is there a way to make him stop picking up fights at fucking everything!? We’ve shared an apartment for a week and the asshole has already criticized everything I do and don’t do.... Asshole.”

“Cristiano is and asshole too.” Hiccuped Gerard.

“And Kun too. He’s one. An asshole.” Leo looked confused for a while making Andrés and Neymar laughed openly. “Don’t laugh at me. Especially you Ney. You’re the only one here getting drunk because you want to get drunk. You don’t have an asshole boyfriend”

“No, I don’t, Leito. And that’s exactly why I’m drinking with y’all” He said finally taking a sip of the drink that Rafa had brought. It burnt all the way down his throat but the warm feeling on his stomach comfort him a little.

“Oh Ney but that’s better!” commented Andrés bringing the attention back to him. “You don’t know how it is having this stupid asshole calling at midnight saying this is it, I’ve had enough of long-distance relationships, I can’t do it.” Andrés cheeks flamed redder and his eyes wattered a little. “And then he regrets it and tries to call you, calls his friends and your friends and then, and then he gets the memo you don’t want to talk to them…”

“Save you do want to talk to them.” Gerard finishes and sighs deeply. He pushes Leo apart and curls himself in a ball, looking like a five-year-old in the body of a twenty-something man. “And then he tells you he hates you and that he’s tired. And the next week comes back and then he loves you and you love him. Asshole.”

Neymar, Rafa and Andrés laughed a little but Leo stayed silent on his spot. He was looking at his knees, hands folded over them neatly. “And he calls you again and he’s like I still love you but you… It’s like you’re tired. Because you love me but you don’t love me. And you feel like you don’t want to go back together”

“You two are totally getting back together Leo, you always do.” Andrés smiled simpathetically but Leo shooks his head, eyes firmly closed.

“We are never getting back together… like ever. Never, never, never”

A few tears rolled down Leo’s cheek and Neymar can’t help but sitting next to him in the couch and holding him close. Neymar’s hands are shaking and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or because Leo is grabbing his shirt desperately while breathing hot air to his neck. The only thing he knows is that he can’t stop the shivering nor he can’t stop the wild beating of his heart.

“Marc says that you should never say never Leo. Never.”

Rafa laughed at his own damn joke and for some reason Andrés followed him. Gerard didn’t seemed to have noticed the joke at all but Rafinha’s laugh was funny enough to him so he joined them.

Neymar looked at his friends and could feel the laughter growing inside him but it quickly turned into something that resembled bravery. He started contemplating doing something he would never dare to do while being a hundred percent sober. Never…

“I don’t mind, I will never get back together with Kun. Never ever.”

Neymar figured that he should do it then before his blood drained out of alcohol and that little amount of bravery dissipated with it. So he leaned forward and clumsily kissed Leo. To his surprise the small Argentine kissed him back though a little hesitant and the loud cheering from the drunk young men around them was almost loud enough to silence the beating of his heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote half of this so sleep deprived that I felt I was drunk, guess it was helpful for the the protrayal of the characters but damaging for my style. Hope you've enjoyed it anyway and thanks for the comments and the kudos. You're all the best xxxx


	9. Stay, Stay, Stay (Piqué/Neymar)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You took the time to memorize me:  
> My fears, my hopes, and dreams.  
> I just like hangin' out with you all the time.  
> All those times that you didn't leave;  
> It's been occurring to me I'd like to hang out with you for my whole life."  
> -Stay, Stay, Stay
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: not-fooballers!AU, fluffly at times i guess, some drunk talk, relationship development, this was supposed to be super short and light hearted, lol,  
> Words: 1096

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/staystaystay.html)  
> 

“You are getting creepy. You know that, right?”

Neymar looks at the older man that has just sit next to him in the small café table. Gerard only smiles a bit wider, signals the waiter to come and ask for a latte. When his blue eyes find Neymar’s quizzical ones, he just breathes a small laugh and shakes his head a little.

“I’m just quite insistent with the things I want”

“More like psychotic, I would say” Neymar is trying really hard not to let the corners of his mouth stretch into a smile. He can’t help it, though. “I will kill Dani for ever introducing me to you”

“We can plot the murder together if you accept to go out with me”

Neymar laughs and waits until Geri pays for his latte, which has just arrived, to answer. “You’ve already ordered coffee and are sharing a table with me. Why don’t we call this a date so you can finally chill”

Gerard seems to contemplate his options while sipping his warm coffee. Neymar suddenly feels empty without something to drink. He had finished his hot chocolate a while ago and was just waiting for the rain outside to cease a little when the Spaniard appeared.

“You didn’t come walking, did you?” Asks finally Neymar when he decides Gerard is not going to say anything anytime soon.

“Nope, I was in my car but because of the rain I was going like super slow and then I saw you through the window and thought, why not?” He smiles, apparently very proud of his actions. Neymar starts to wonder if he should be actually worried about him.

“So you just pulled over and came here to drink coffee with me?”

“Well, you’re not technically drinking anything…”

“Didn’t you have anything else to do?”

“Some… stuff from uni but nothing too serious” Gerard gesticulates vaguely with his hands and then focuses again on drinking his coffee.

“I can’t believe you’re so fucking willing to drop everything just to come here and sit with me.” Neymar feels a bit of blush creeping to his cheeks and tries as hard as possible to hide it. His eyes are glued to the table but he can feel Gerard looking at him anyway. “What if I’d told you to go away?”

“Gladly, you didn’t and now I have my date” Neymar fulminates him with his eyes and Gerard laughs openly, his shoulders shaking a little and his eyes squeezed tight. “It was about time!  I’ve asked you out what? Six times? Seven?”

“Seven” Neymar’s mind speeds through the scenes in his head and feels the blush spreading down his neck. Gerard just smirks looking pleased with himself.

“So it took seven rejects for you to finally accept to go out with me”

“I still haven’t say this was a date!”

“That’s because I haven’t asked you out for the eighth time yet!” Neymar looks blankly at him and does his best not to crack a smile. Gerard laughs again. “Say I ask you out right now, what would you do Ney?”

“Say I say yes, what would you do Geri?”

The Spaniard’s smile is so big and white that it makes him look like the Cheshire Cat. Gerard asks for a hot chocolate for Neymar and looks back at him with sparkling eyes. Neymar can’t help smiling back.

\---

“Is this the right time to say ‘I told you so’?” Neymar is sulking on his coach. Arms folded tightly around his torso. Eyes focused on the bright screen of the TV but not actually watching. “Because I did told you, you know?”

“Shut the fuck up Geri!” Neymar kicks his boyfriend and looks at him with what the Brazilian considers the angriest face he has. Gerard laughs openly. Neymar feels the anger boiling inside him. This time he kicks him until the Spaniard falls off the couch.

“Ney, calm down” Geri tries to stand up but he keeps laughing and ends up falling straight to the floor again. Neymar only gets angrier and rushes to his room. “Ney! Neymar wait!”

Neymar closes the door loudly and throws himself to the bed. His face is buried on the pillows but he can hear his boyfriend knocking on the door. He knows Gerard knows the door is unlocked. They both also know that Gerard will wait until Neymar tells him it’s okay to step in to do it.

“Fuck off!”

“Come on Ney, I was joking”

“You were laughing”

“Sorry, but I was…” Neymar hears Geri sighing. “This would be way easier if we were in the same room, love”

There’s a long silence and Neymar just knows that Gerard is waiting for him to answer with his forehead pressed against the door, listening attentively in case he misses anything. Neymar tells him to come in and then hides under the sheets. He’s still angry and he doesn’t want Gerard to laugh at him anymore.

The heavy weight of Gerard’s body makes the mattress deep and moves Neymar’s body a little. He can sense the heat of the other even through the layers of cloth.

“You’re still angry?”

“Of course I am. And you laughing at me don’t make it any better”

“I’m sorry Ney, I can’t help it.” Neymar kicks him again. Gerard laughs. Neymar thanks he’s under the sheets because he is smiling. He doesn’t feel so angry anymore. “Have you ever seen yourself when you lose at anything?”

Neymar makes a disgruntled noise and decides that he’s had enough of hiding. When Gerard sees his pout he has to bit his lower lip hard not to burst out laughing. Neymar appreciates the gesture.

“Don’t do that, you’re hurting your lip” With his thumb the Brazilian eases Gerard’s lower lip and then caresses it. He presses their lips together and sighs. “Are you staying tonight?”

“If you want me to” Neymar smirks because even if he wants to play it cool, Geri can’t hide the way his eyes were sparkling.

“Of course I want.” He kisses him again and drag him down so they are both lying in bed. “Just don’t mention tonight again”

Neymar can hear the smile in every word that falls out of Gerard’s lips. “Don’t mention how you lost a hundred fucking euros playing poker with Rafa of all people?”

“You know what? I changed my mind, get out of my bed!”

Next thing Neymar knows, he’s being kissed and hugged and surrounded by smalls laughs and big soft hands. His world suddenly smothered by Gerard and nothing else.

\--

They are drunk. So much that Dani didn’t let either Neymar nor Gerard drive themselves home, he himself did it. They are so drunk that Neymar isn’t exactly sure of how had they climbed up the stairs to Gerard’s apartment or how the hell did they manage to open the door. The only thing the Brazilian is absolutely sure is that Gerard’s laugh is the most precious thing and that his couch is incredibly comfortable too.

“Geri we should sleep here!”

“There’s no way in hell we both fit here, love. No way, no way” But as he speaks Geri lies in the sofa, grabbing Neymar by his waist and pulling him to his chest.

“See! So comfortable! We’re sleeping here, right here.” He gets comfortable and pays attention to Gerard’s heart. His eyes were closing when his boyfriend’s voice wakes him again.

“Your friend… Thiago? He told me he was glad I was with you” Gerard sounds confused, Neymar laughs.

“Thiago was not there tonight. Must’ve been someone else!” The Brazilian giggles again and hides his face in the crook of Geri’s neck. “Whoever it was it was right, though. You’re amazing, I’m glad you’re with me too.” And then laughs again making Gerard laugh along too.

“So I am amazing?”

“Yes, but don’t be a dick” Neymar kicks his shoulder faintly. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever ever had. The best.”

“How many boyfriends you’ve had?” Neymar is unaware of the sudden tension in Gerard’s body.

“Oh a bunch, but they were all assses. They… they only had me to, to have sex you know? I had to deal with their problems but they never took care of me and like, they were not nice. Not like you…” Neymar snorts and then starts laughing.

“What?” But the Brazilian just keeps laughing. Gerard re-arranges him in his arms so he could look at his face. He is starting to laugh himself too, Neymar’s laugh is too funny not to. “Ney, what?”

“You’re too nice, sometimes. Like, you wake up early to make breakfast, and you take me to dine with your family and… and… and you carry my groceries, fuck! You do my groceries!” Neymar laughs louder and this time Gerard laughs openly too. “But you’re still a creep Geri, I won’t forget how you get your first date with me!”

“But you love me, right?”

“Yes, I love you Geri. Very very much.”

\--

Neymar is homesick and he doesn’t know what to do to hide it.

Yet he tries.

And fails.

That’s how he finds himself wrapped in a warm comforter and Gerard’s arms, watching some crappy action film they both love and eating ice-cream instead of a proper meal.

“You’re not even paying attention to the film.” Geri’s voice in his ear startles Neymar.

“But I am…”

“Two cars just exploded and you didn’t even laughed. What’s up?”

Gerard moves in the sofa until he is facing Neymar, the young Brazilian playing with the soft comforter in his hands.

“I already told you… I miss my family a little. It’s… It’s Rafa’s birthday next week and I’d love to be there you know”

“We could go” Neymar looks at him wide eyed. “I can buy the tickets right now and tomorrow I call my work and tell them. You could just ask the guys to take notes for you at uni. We can do it if you really want to”

Neymar bites his lower lip. He wants to, he really wants to. His gaze drifts back to his own lap. Geri’s blue eyes are too convincing. He can’t say no while looking at them.

Yet he opens his mouth and no word come out. His throat is closed making difficult even to breath.

“Hey” Ney feels a strong yet tender hand lifting his chin. He is faced again with Gerard who kisses him chastely. “Don’t beat yourself on it. You haven’t been home in so long, you must be dying to visit your family.” Geri wipes away the first tears that are silently rolling down Neymar’s tanned skin. “Carles won’t have a problem if I left for a week and Rafinha will give you his notes. And it will make you feel much better.”

Neymar can’t resist any longer the urge to throw himself at Gerard’s arms. He breathes in the strong scent of his skin and let the tears out more freely. Though these tears are also happy ones.

“You always know what’s the best for me” Gerard large hands are caressing his back and playing with his hair. They are just everywhere and Neymar can’t remember a moment when he had felt more secure. “How do you do that? How do you know?”

“I just do. I just want you to be happy”

\--

“You don’t get to decide that Gerard! Fuck off!”

It is wrong, it is incredibly wrong. From the level of their voices to the slamming of the doors. From the cooling food on their table to the darkness of their room. Everything was wrong but Neymar didn’t know how to make it right.

“Neymar open the door please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

He is banging the door, each hit reverberating in his skull. Neymar closes his eyes even if the lights of the room are off. He feels lost. Fighting with Gerard is so foreign he doesn’t know what to do with himself. So he hides in their room and tortures himself with his boyfriend pleading to be let in, to let him explain.

“Neymar! I’m so so sorry, love. Please open the door. I’m stupid and I really didn’t mean it. I know you and Rafa are friends. Ney!”

It os the sobbing that broke his heart, he can’t stand the thought of Gerard crying in the hallway. Yet he is so angered still. Gerard had no right, no right at all to question his friendship with Rafinha. But Gerard is crying and he isn’t banging the door anymore.

Neymar opens the door and finds Geri on his knees. He stands up and doesn’t look as tall as usual.

“I’m sorry” The Brazilian only looks at him coldly, hoping Gerard doesn’t notice how sad he is. “Listen, let’s not fight anymore please.” Neymar snorts. “Just… just let me pick my stuff and I’ll sleep in the sofa” Neymar face falls a little and he probably takes too long to put his straight face back. “Can I…?”

Neymar moves so Gerard can take his pajamas and his teeth bush without turning the lights on. It felt oddly wrong to do it. Then he stands next to Neymar on his way out.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow” He leans forward to kiss the Brazilian on the cheek but Neymar flinches away. Gerard winces. “Okay... Okay. Sleep well.”

One last long look at each other and then Neymar closes the door, new tears coming to his eyes. The lights of their room are still off.

\--

It is not the sunlight but the smell of coffee and toasts that wakes him up. His stomach is making hungry noises even before his eyes are completely open. For a few minutes he forgets about the cold right side of their bed and the paths of dry tears on his face. It is the sight of a table set for two and Gerard setting two glasses of juice on it what brings him back to reality.

“Good morning” Neymar says with a hint of doubt in his voice. Gerard is surprised by his voice and almost drops the juice. He looks at Neymar and his eyes are incredibly clear but undoubtedly restless.  The bags under his eyes dark against his pale skin.

“Morning Ney. I humm… I made breakfast” He smiles a little, Neymar replies with a small smile too.

“I notice. Thank you.” Neymar sits down on his usual chair and Gerard just in front of him. They start eating silently. Until Gerard can’t stand the silence anymore.

“We should talk about it.” Neymar looks at him quizzically. “About last night, I read somewhere that you should never leaver a fight unresolved and…” Neymar snorts.

“What, in one of those magazines of yours?”

“It was online, really”

“Yeah” The Brazilian smirks. “On the site of one those self-help books you…”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be serious here”

Neymar closes his lips mid sentence and looks at him attentively though Gerard can’t help his smile. Neymar can only faintly remember the anger from the previous night.

“I’m sorry about last night. I swear I was joking about you and Rafa but things got out of hand…”

“Geri, it was nothing. I overreacted. It was a stupid thing.”

“You threw your phone at me, Ney. That doesn’t look like “nothing” to me.” Neymar flushes a little at that. He is only glad it didn’t hit Gerard though the little device was probably destroyed.

“Okay, let’s talk then.” He straightens in his seat and looks at Geri for a second before bursting into laughs. Gerard rolls his eyes but laughs a little too. “Sorry, I can’t love. But here...” He takes the Spaniard’s hand in his. “I love you and I’m sorry too. I really overreacted, I knew you were joking. It was a really stupid fight.”

“It really was, right?” They both laugh a little. “Come here”

Neymar runs to settle in Gerard’s lap and hides his face in the crook of his neck. Gerard’s smell was addictive, just as his hands, his eyes and his smile.

“Why do you always stay?”

“Hmm?”

“I throw tantrums so very often and you never get angry at me-”

“It’s because you’re lovely when you’re mad”

“See! Who else would love me when I get mad? Just you.” Neymar wrapps his arms around his torso and buries himself even more in the big Spaniard’s body. “All those times that you could have left me and you didn’t…

“I could never” Their voices are only whispers. “I could never never leave you”

“You are always here for me… I… I’d like to have this, to have you with me for my whole life, Geri”

Gerard sits straight suddenly and almost makes Neymar fall off his lap. His arms are quick to grab the Brazilian’s waist, though. He looks down at the younger man with big surprised eyes.

“Are you like… proposing?”

“What!? No!” They are both deep red and start laughing out of nervousness. It is stupid really but they can’t help it.

“Sorry, but it sounded quite like a proposal!”

“I’ll never… I mean, I always thought it would be you…” Neymar blushes again and Gerard kisses his cheeks.

“I wouldn’t mind you proposing to me”

Neymar kisses him, losing his hands in Gerard’s hair and letting the Spaniard explore his mouth with his tongue.

“No need of proposals, love. Just stay with me and I’ll be happy”

“I will stay, Ney. Always with you.”

 


	10. The Last Time (Xavi/Iniesta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong,  
> This is the last time I say it's been you all along,  
> This is the last time I let you in my door,  
> This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore."  
> -The Last Time
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: angst, theorically placed somewhere before 14/15 season was over, not a happy ending, idk what else too tag, oh, small homophobic remarks, very recomendable to listen to the song,  
> Words: 1065

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Listen to the song [HERE](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QuijXg8wm28)  
>   
> Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/stateofgrace.html)  
> 

The room was dark and still.

It was that infinitesimal moment of realization when you are standing on the edge of a cliff and you just know the fall is inevitable.

Neither of the two men lying in the bed want to say a thing. They don’t even move, limbs tangled, bare skin pressed to bare skin. The screaming silence is the only thing keeping the inevitable from happening but Andrés and Xavi knew that it wasn’t enough.

Nothing will make the seconds stop ticking.

Yet they tried.

(For as long as Andrés could stand it.)

“You’re leaving” It isn’t a question but a statement.

Xavi’s hands still in the middle of Andrés’ back. For a moment he stops breathing.

Denying it was futile because it is true. Never in his life does Xavi wishes more that Andrés was wrong. The silence is enough confirmation.

The breaking point.

The beginning of the fall.

“When?”

“End of the season”

Andrés gets out of his bed. It’s raining outside, a window is open somewhere and the house if filled with the smell of rain. Andrés’ body shivers in contact with the cold air. It is almost impossible to find his clothes in the darkness of the room.

“Andrés…”

“Don’t”

He hears Xavi moving around too, gathering his stuff, getting dressed. He sits back in the bed and soon enough Andrés follows him. There are centimeters separating them but Andrés feels like they might as well be miles. Xavi’s heavy breathing seems to come from another world. Andrés wonders where has the heat of the room gone.

“You’ve got it wrong, Andrés. Just…”

“You don’t get to say that, Xavier”

They’ve known each other for too long, loved each other for too long. This game isn’t new for any of them. Andrés has been told too many times that he had misunderstood things, Xavi has got with it too many times too. But not anymore.

“Not tonight.” Andrés felt his chest tighten. Every little piece of his broken heart is stabbing his ribcage and his lungs. Destroying him from the inside. He can hear the sounds of his ribs being broken and his heart painfully agonizing. “She’s going with you. Nuria.”

Xavi bits his lip and Andrés hates himself for finding it cute. He hates himself for realizing the pain and guilt in the other’s face and feeling bad for being the one causing it. He hates Xavi in the same way he loves him. But he isn’t up for the same game anymore.

“She’s pregnant”

The world stops.

And crashes down.

And suddenly everything Andrés ever knew is a lie. And every little promise he’s held to is destroyed. And the feeling of the imminent ending is so overwhelming that his eyes can’t held back the tears.

Angry tears. Sad tears.

He is coming to pieces, breaking down in front of the one who is destroying him. Every cell of his body aching and burning. All in front of Xavi’s eyes.

He is crying too.

(Andrés hopes he is coming undone too.)

“You should go”

A few seconds go by before Andrés realizes it has been his voice. He is too focused in trying to hold himself together.

“Andrés I…”

“Now”

They stand up in perfect sync, consequences of sharing so many years together. Each of them weighing tons in their backs as they walk to Andrés’ front door.  Xavi is looking at him. Andrés is looking at the floor. Neither wants to be the one who opens the door. Neither wants to be the one to give up first.

“Andrés listen, I love…”

“Stop lying”

“I’m not lying. I love you. It’s always been you the one I love. It’s been you all along.”

“But Nuria is pregnant and you’re leaving with her”

“You couldn’t be the one pregnant, could you?”

A stab on his heart would have been less painful. A thousand cars running over him would hurt less. Because it is true. He is a man. He is a man and Xavi is in love with him. It is shameful and it is wrong. Andrés doesn’t need Xavi to remind him that. He is not a woman, he doesn’t deserve to spend his life with Xavi. It doesn’t matter how much he loves him. It doesn’t matter.

“I didn’t mean that. Andrés.”

“Leave”

Andrés finally opens the door. It has been enough. Too many years enough. Too much of his life enough.

(It was probably too late too)

“I don’t…”

“I’ve watched you go so many times, Xavi. And I’ve accepted you back so many times. Everything feels better when you’re back but everything goes to hell when you’re gone. And you’re gone too many times, Xavi. I can’t stand it anymore.”

“I don’t want this to end up like this, Andrés”

Xavi helds his chin with his right hand and makes him look at his eyes. The motion comes with such ease that Andrés feels like throwing up. He is missing him so much already.

“Why?”

“Because every time I look at your eyes everything feels better. I don’t want to lose that-”

“Then put me first.” Confusion flashes through Xavi’s features but that doesn’t stop Andrés. “You’ve always had so many things to come before me. Put my name on the top of your list. Do something for me, Xavi. I’ve already given too much of me to you.”

The seconds are too long but every single one of them is revealing Andrés what he already knows: Xavi’s inevitable answer.

“I can’t”

He closes his eyes. It is not a conscious thing. He just can’t stand looking at him.

“Do you enjoy it? You break my heart in a second every time. It comes so easily to you.” New tears stream down Andrés pale cheeks. “Leave.” And the words weigh so much leaving Andrés’ mouth he hopes Xavi realizes he means them but regrets them at the same time. “You are always hurting me, Xavi. Always.”

“I won’t hurt you anymore.”

Andrés feels well known lips pressed softly against his cheek. Feels the rush of cold air coming from outside. He watches Xavi leave with the certainty that this time there won’t be a coming back.

Tears do not come fast enough to let him cry his sadness away.

(He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be able to do it)


	11. Holy Ground (Kun/Leo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We had this big wide city all to ourselves.  
> We blocked the noise with the sound of ‘I need you’,  
> And for the first time I had something to lose."  
> -Holy Ground
> 
> Rating: Teens and Up  
> Tags: Buenos Aires AU, they are normal people, angsty, but it ends well i can spoil you that, fluffly of course, 4k words i'm quite proud, lots of buenos aires places and references,  
> Words: 4008

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/holyground.html)  
> 

Buenos Aires was a big city like many others. It flooded with the energy of the dozens of people leaving traces of their life behind them. It was noisy and annoying at times. It was also full of little streets and old buildings from where tales, myths, tangos and milongas were begging to be told. Buenos Aires was as progressive as his ever nostalgic mindset let her be and it was maybe that gray area between old and new, european and latin american, modern and traditional that hooked Leo even if he despised the smog, the cars,  the noisy nights and the irreverent  _ porteños. _

There were small places he liked too. The majestic Ateneo bookstore or the cozy library of Buenos Aires’ Law University, for example. He loved the museums that littered the whole city in every possible place and he loved a number of small cafés including (ironically) the little Starbucks in the middle of 9 de Julio avenue. The last being probably one of the best places he’s ever found to focus on his writing when he was away from home.

It wasn’t strange then that a smiling stranger with the warmest brown eyes Leo had ever seen found him there, fervently writing on his journal and barely listening to the words that were meant to him. Lionel got lost on the stranger’s eyes for a while before he could understood that he had asked permission to sit in the spare chair on his table. Leo nodded and only then he remembered that he hated sharing tables with people, even more so if he didn’t know them.

“I’m Kun, by the way. And thank you for letting me sit. My legs are killing me and it’s so damn cold outside! One would think that being so near to spring the weather would be a bit nicer, huh?” He took a long sip to his coffee and took off his jacket. 

Leo was still frozen and in shock. Whether the shock was due to how the stranger was talking to him like they were old friends or because he was actually very handsome was beyond him.

“Kun, you said? Who’s called ‘Kun’?” He slapped himself mentally. You just  _ didn’t  _ mock cute guys’ names.

The man blushed a little but smiled to him broadly and Leo felt a little bit dizzy.

“It’s Sergio, in fact. Sergio Agüero. But people call me Kun so…”

“Yeah, right. I’m sorry.” Leo offered him a smile and then added: “I’m Lionel, by the way. Messi. But um, you can call me Leo, I think.”

“You don’t sound convinced” Lionel blushed dumbly and tried to hid his smile but failed miserably if Kun’s smirk was something to go by. 

“I am, Lionel Messi. And people do call me Leo, thank you very much.” He laughed a little and took a sip from his coffee that was almost over. “ I’m a Literature professor. I teach in the University of Rosario, that’s where I’m from. I’m teach here sometimes too” He looked down at his messy journal and the laptop occupying almost all the space in the table and sighed. “And I dare to consider myself a writer though some publishers may have some things to say about it” He shrugged. 

“Wow, and I thought I had just taken a sit with a normal boring lad.” Kun seemed amused to say the least and was looking at him almost reverently. “Are you teaching in the UBA?”

“I’m giving a conference on Monday”

“That’s cool” Lionel could disagree but opted to stay quiet about it.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Kun looked frankly surprised about the question. He chuckled and looked at the busy street for a while. 

Surprisingly for Leo, he didn’t find the little lapsus of silence uncomfortable or awkward. He took the chance to look at Kun more thoroughly. He mentally traced the line of his profile and searched for words in his head to describe the precise shade of his tanned complexion.

“My life sounds a bit dumb compared to yours, I must admit. I wanted to be a professional football player, you see. And people used to tell me I had talent” He doubted a little before speaking a again with a nostalgic smile. “Independiente had me playing in one of their young teams, you know?”

“And what happened?”

“My knee. It got screwed when I fell down from the rooftop of my granny’s home. My cousins and I were playing there and I just slipped.”

“You were lucky you didn’t get killed”

“Nah, it was a pretty small house. But my knee never got better.” He sighed a little and for a moment he looked pained but not in a physical way and Lionel felt the need to comfort him somehow. The feeling surprised him and made his heart beat faster. “I’m a PE teacher, though. I teach in a primary school and coach some kids in a football campament. It’s fine, I think.”

They looked at each other straight to their eyes. There was a mute conversation about shattered hopes and better times. Leo never felt so understood. He had never felt so much company on his loneliness.

“Crushed dreams are the worst nightmares” Kun looked at him with quizzical eyes. Leo’s coffee was over and he was playing with the empty plastic cup.

He wanted to be a writer, he would explain to Kun, but he would never make a living out of it (or at least that was what his father said). He wanted to write at least three novels and publish a book of poems. He wanted to make short stories for children and maybe get to write a song or two for some important singer. But those were all silly dreams, according to his parents, and studying Literature and being a teacher was the closest he could get. And it was miserable. Well, maybe not that much. He got to write a lot but no the kind of writing he wanted. He was payed well and he had made himself quite a good name among his colleagues. But it had never been about that.

“I just feel stuck. I can’t say I have a terrible life because I like my job but it’s just not…”

“Not how you imagined your life would be”

“Yeah”

Their coffees were already gone or too cold to bother drinking them. The street lights outside were already on but the sun was still hanging low just above the tall buildings. Kun took his hand and smiled at him and Leo was confused but he just grabbed his and smiled back.

“Let’s stop with the self pity. We have better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Living”

\--

Turns up that Kun’s idea of “living” was taking the metro to the Japanese Garden, sneaking to a restricted area and hiding behind the bushes full of flowers talking shit and laughing at nothing until it started getting dark and they feared being trapped inside the damned complex.

Freezing because the spring was being lazy that year and holding hands just because they could, they took the metro again back to the centre and walked around Corrientes street eating stupidly overpriced chips and cookies that people sold in the entry of the theatres and pretending they were going to watch every single play (more than once even queuing right until it was time for them to get into the building).

They talked and laughed and walked until their cheeks, stomachs and legs hurt and they huddled in a McDonald’s eating hamburgers and throwing fries at each other.

Their tour ended taking a cab that cost them more than what they had spent the whole day just to get to a club Kun’s friend had told him was great and played good music. They danced together like there was no one else in the room and drank maybe a little bit too much.

Lionel couldn’t remember a night -or a day for the sake of it- when he had enjoyed dancing so much. 

(Neither did he recall a night when he had taken a guy he had just met that day back to his hotel room and fucked him senseless until they both fell asleep wrapped around each other)

\--

Leo woke up with a slight hangover and the terrible feeling that there was someone missing next to him. He sat down and hunt the room with his eyes, searching for something that told him that he wasn’t gone. But Kun had disappeared with his clothes and probably a little bit of Leo’s soul.

The weight of the world and its shitty games was coming down on his shoulder when he noticed a paper taped to the door. He stood up with wobbly legs, took the note written with a messy handwriting that resembled a child’s and read it slowly.

_ now i understand y u didnt want to dance last night. as a dancer ur a greit writer ;) _

Leo laughed loudly, probably louder than he should. He laughed so much that he had to sit on the floor because that has been what Kun had told him while they were dancing and because on the other side of the paper there was his number and a little message asking him to call him after midday. 

\--

Leo called Kun and they arranged to meet in a little restaurant near his hotel. Lionel had enough time to shower, get dressed, finish the Power Point for his conference the next day and daydream about the previous day.

When it was about time he left the hotel with a rush of adrenaline flowing through his veins. He was not sure what he was expecting from this meeting with Kun, but judging by what they had done the first time they met it would certainly be something interesting.

Kun was already waiting for him in the door of the restaurant. He smiled broadly and opened his arms waiting for Leo to hug him. With incredible ease Leo wrapped his arms around his waist and buried his face on the crook of his neck.  They parted a little and Leo couldn’t help but leaning in and brushing his lips softly with Kun’s. They looked at each other in silence for a while, then Kun smiled.

“Come, you’ll love the food from here” He grabbed his hand and led him in. 

They ordered pizza because it was simpler and because they were too busy talking to actually care about the food on the table (Though the  _ fugazzeta  _ was one of the tastiest Leo had ever eaten in his life).

“I’m sorry again for leaving like that” Kun apologised for the seventh time since they started eating.

“I already told you you shouldn’t worry”

“No, but… I mean it. I…” He sighed and grabbed Leo’s free hand who opened it so Kun could play with his fingers. “I really wanted to stay. But the little ones had this really important match today and I just couldn’t send them with the second coach.”

“Kun, it’s  _ fine _ . It’s your job, I understand.” Leo turned their hands around and rubbed his thumb over Kun’s knuckles. “Plus, I didn’t want to be guilty of six year olds losing their most important game of the year because their coach was sleeping with me”

They both smiled at each other trying to hide the evident blush in their faces.

“I had an amazing day yesterday, Kun” Leo’s voice was so silent that Kun could have missed it if he hadn’t been giving all his attention to the other man.

“I’m glad to hear that” His voice was soft too. He kept quiet for a while, squeezing Leo’s hand in his. Then he let go and clap loudly. Leo looked at him a bit scared and Kun laughed openly. “But now we have to make this day even better!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that we should pay right now and go and see more of this lovely city” Kun held his arm up calling a waiter so they could pay their bill. “And I wouldn’t mind a little bit more of kissing, either”

Leo blushed deep red but couldn’t retort anything because the waiter was there. They splitted the bill, payed and left a good tip in the table before going out. Without saying anything they both knew they were going to the nearest metro entry and Leo could only hold his tongue for about four streets.

“What are we doing?”

They stopped in their tracks and for a few seconds Kun seemed to admire Leo with shiny eyes and a tiny smile.

“I want you to spend this day with me going to our favourite places of Buenos Aires. You told me a few of yours yesterday and I told you some of mine. I think we have a nice schedule for the day” He look sheepish, almost as if he was asking for permission.

“Kun, I’d love to go to all those places but I really need to get ready for my conference tomorrow and…”

“No, stop.” Kun had closed his eyes. Leo took his other hand in his and squeezed it tight. “I know tomorrow’s Monday and you have work. So do I, I have to wake at hideous five fifty in the morning to get to the school I work on in time. But you’re leaving tomorrow night.” He opened his eyes then and they were shining but not with summer stars. Kun’s eyes were full of the saddest raindrops and he was trying his best to hold the storm back. “And you’ll go to Barcelona at the end of the year so I thought we should spend this day together”

Kun placed his forehead on Leo’s and breathed in and out slowly. Leo supposed that he was trying not to cry and maybe he should start doing the same.

“I still don’t know if I’m leaving. I already told you that they only pick the best ones for that programme”

“They will pick you, Leo. Those stories you showed me in the Garden yesterday…” He laughed and his breath collapsed against Leo’s lips. He wanted to kiss Kun so bad. “They were incredible. And the poems, those poems are out of this world.” Kun laughs. “I might be a dumb PE teacher but I know what a beautiful piece of writing is. There is no way they won’t choose you”

They finally kissed. Their mouths open, lips touching languidly, their tongues playing lazily with each other. They didn’t really care for the people looking and probably judging them. They were not even aware of it because those people didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the limited time they had in their hands and the desperate need of making it last forever.

“Okay, let’s dot it”

“Great”

\---

Buenos Aires was wild and welcoming and Kun and Leo took it by storm like there was no tomorrow. They rode every bus and every metro that could possibly take them to somewhere interesting and walked so much their feets lost their sensibility.

They visited every bookstore Leo adored and some of the museums that were on their way. They went to the observatorium and rented some bicycles to go around the park. They went all the way to Avellaneda and Kun called an old friend so they could sneak into Independiente stadium and kick some balls and kiss in the pitch in front of their invisible audience (that was cheering for their love in their minds, loud as the silence surrounding them and the beating of their hearts.)

When it was too cold to be outside they entered the first café they found and sit as together as possible and kissed and pecked and laughed over each other lips. Their hands were firmly gripped under the table and the warmth of their capuccinos made them feel cozy and at home. Buenos Aires graced them with a day without rain and they enjoyed the chance to walk back to the centre.

They walked quickly because the cold was growing with the coming of the night and they toured all the classical touristic spots and took silly pictures while kissing every time they could. And whenever the noise of the cars was too much or the music and screaming of the people saturated the air they would just kiss and whisper sweet nothings to the other’s ears and that was far more than enough to silence the rest of the world.

They bought some take away on their way to Leo’s hotel. Walking slowly even if the night had completely fallen by then. They had to hug each other tightly to try to keep some warmth. Both Kun and Leo knew that arriving to the hotel was the beginning of the end and neither want to wake up from that dream.

They had sex several times. So many that their muscles hurt and they were both sore and felt too tired even to joke about it. Too tired to even feel properly sad. Leo took the time to kiss every centimeter of Kun’s skin and he could swear that Kun’s hands had left an imprint on his body from so many caresses. It was a long goodbye. Sweet, painful and achingly hopeful.

\--

When Kun woke up he noticed right away that Leo was gone and that it was fatally late for him to get to work. He smiled at Leo’s note on the nightstand asking him to stay until he returned from his conference and then called the headmistress of his school making up some excuse and apologising for his absence. 

He spent the rest of the morning wandering around Leo’s hotel room. It was quite impersonal, like almost every hotel room where you have stayed less than a week. There were some clothes here and there and a pile of books on the desk. Kun took a sit and eyed them curiously. On of the books wasn’t a book but a journal, Leo’s journal. His curiosity was stronger than him. He read through it. There were little random facts written in the margins and the beginning of stories that were never born. There were plots and ideas written hastily and even little drawings at the bottom of some pages. And there were Leo’s poems.

Kun didn’t consider himself an incredibly intelligent person. He wasn’t even used to reading that much. But there was something about the raw style Leo used to write his poems that made him understand them and actually feel them. The words on the journal spoke of broken dreams and lost chances. They spoke of longs and dark nights and silences that never ended. They spoke of feeling lonely in a world that seemed constantly overcrowded and constantly  referenced a loneliness so deep and dark that Kun felt scared when he noticed he identified with it. But under all those dark thoughts there was always a light of hope, a trace of something better on the horizon, the possibility of good things happening. 

The last poem had been written the morning after he and Leo had sex for the first time. It was shorter than the others but it held so much meaning that Kun had to re-read it a few times to completely get it. It was a poem about love. It was a condensed story of a love so deep and so strange that it was meant to exist briefly and die prematurely. It was sad on the edges but so bright that it warmed the existence of those who experience it. It was a poem about letting go but never forgetting and about loving beyond times those small moments of perfection.

 

Kun was crying in the bed re-reading the same page over and over again when Leo arrived. He didn’t need to ask what was happening, he already knew even if he wasn’t sure why. They hugged tightly and Leo let himself cry a little too. They kissed and had sex one more time and then they had to pack his stuff because his plane was leaving in four hours. When everything was ready they looked at each other without speaking for a good while until Leo broke the silence with a teary smile.

“I want to show you something”

Leo took Kun’s hand and led Kun to the elevator. They climbed to the last floor and then took a flight of stairs to the rooftop. It was windy and cold but the hotel was one of the tallest buildings around and Buenos Aires was on full display above them. The sun was hanging low in the sky making everything look a bit orange and the lights of the far buildings and moving cars looked more like constellations.

“This is beautiful”

“It is” Leo took Kun’s hands in his. “I like coming to rooftops, they are usually lonely and have great views.”

“Perfect for a writer” He smiled sadly.

“Perfect for a writer” Leo looked at his eyes and breathed in deeply. “I’ll come back.”

“What?”

“To Buenos Aires. I’ll come back.” Kun looked confused and Leo didn’t know if he wanted to hit him or kiss him. “I always have conferences and master classes and I always turn most of them down. But I may accept some more if I had someone waiting for me here” He smiled at the ground feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks. “I’m coming back, Kun”

“You are doing that for me?” Lionel nodded trying to hold back some new tears and finally laughed.

“And I will take you to Rosario every time I have a chance. And you’ll meet my family and played football with my brothers. It’ll work, Kun. This…” He took both Kun’s hands in his. “This is way too precious to let it go. Only a stupid man or a coward would give it up like that.” He smiled a little. “And we are not stupid nor cowards, right?”

Leo leaned in and kissed him sweetly but Kun pushed him lightly to stop him. For a short moment Leo’s heart stopped and he didn’t dare to imagine why Kun had stopped him. 

“And what will happen when you go to Barcelona?” Leo laughed loudly out of relief and rolled his eyes. He was going to punch him first, it had been decided.

“They haven’t picked me yet…”

“They will. And you’re going or I’ll be very mad, Leo. You have to.” Leo smiled and pecked his lips quickly. He hugged Kun close from his waist and rested their foreheads together.

“Then I will take you with me and we’ll make you such an amazing coach that Barca’s La Masia will be begging to have you”

“Shut up”

“I’m being serious”

“You’re shit talking. You’ll forget about me next week and I’ll be left here with all my hopes and nothing else” Leo looked at Kun hurt for a moment, fearing he actually thought that about him. Kun rolled his eyes and kissed him with a smile pressed to his lips. “I was damn joking, you dramatic emo”

“Hey!” Leo finally punch him in his chest and started laughing so much he held to Kun’s shoulders for support.

They hugged each other while the light around disappeared giving space for the dark of the night and telling them it was time for the final (or temporary) goodbye.

“You really mean it?”

“About you coaching at La Masía? I mean, it might be difficult but…”

“No, you dork.” They both laughed and breathing suddenly seemed such an easy task. “I meant the part of you having me in your life. Taking me to Barcelona.” 

Kun’s eyes were shining just like the afternoon when he proposed Leo to go and start “living”. If Leo had any kind of doubts they all disappeared in that precise moment.

“My life haven’t started until I met you last Saturday, Kun. And I want to live it now”


	12. Sad Beautiful Tragic (Messi/Cristiano)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Distance, timing, breakdown, fighting  
> Silence, this train runs off its tracks  
> Kiss me, try to fix it, could you just try to listen?  
> Hang up, give up, for the life of us we can't get back"  
> -Sad Beautiful Tragic
> 
> Rating: Teens and Up  
> Tags: Canon Compliant, or something, angsty, (what else can you expect from that title lol), not a happy ending in case that triggers anyone, this is so weird, i really hope you like it  
> Words: 1498

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's so weird I really need to make and actual note: I've always interpreted this song in such an abstract way it took me forever to find a way to lay out a story from it. (The only thing I've always been certain was that it was a Crismessi story lol) I didn't want to simply write a scene with no conext though that was all that I could picture at first. A simple scene with thousand of stuff going on unsaid. So I did my best to write down some of that stuff, otherwise this would have been so much shorter. 
> 
> I hope you like it anyway.
>
>>   
> Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/sadbeautifultragic.html)  
> 

There's a kind of love that glows warm and gold and makes you feel fuzzy all over. There’s also a dull kind of love that drags you to routines and feels more like an accessory than an actual feeling. There are aching loves that rip your skin apart and eat you away while you feel them. And there’s a kind of love that burns you from the inside, that consumes you while you throw yourself to the abyss of feeling it and that finishes way before you expect it. Abruptly, painfully.

Lionel was the abyss with the prettiest pair of brown eyes Cristiano has seen in a while. It was the imminent fall masked with a shy smile and incredibly football skills. Leo Messi was everybody’s sweetheart, the good guy of the football world, the greatest football player of all time and the reason why Cristiano Ronaldo lost his mind and couldn’t sleep at night.

Their love was wild and reckless. It had started like a flame, a fire burning down every fence and guard. It was never just about sex even if they fucked for the first time in a rush in some service bathroom after a Ballon d’Or gala. Cristiano could feel how everything was going to end from the very beginning and maybe Leo did to, but they went for it anyway and let the fire consume their skin, their flesh and their bones until there was nothing of the two best footballers of our time but their ashes and the strong feeling that they were selling their souls to the devil. 

There was a dark beauty on everything they did. From sneaking around in award shows to sharing looks in press conferences. From the incognito trips from one city to the other and the knowing smiles shared before each El Clásico. Their skins felt always feverish when they shook hands, it didn’t matter the context. Leo’s eyes always turned darker. Cristiano bit his lower lip. They were terrible liars but the world simply didn’t look into the details. They were safe from them. (But they were never safe from themselves.)

The downfall came out of nowhere. Just like the moment when a flame extinguishes forever. It was bound to happen but that didn’t mean it was any less painful. 

Cristiano woke up one morning to find an envelope with pictures of Leo arriving to his house and leaving the following morning and a threat to give the stalker an absurd amount of money to prevent those pictures “and some worse ones” to be published. It was the fear and not Cristiano the one who called Lionel and asked if he had received something similar. (He hadn’t). It was the fear and not Cristiano the one who screamed at Lionel when the Argentine suggested not paying and letting the pictures get published. (“We’ve been together almost for three years, Cris. We might as well let them know and get over with it”) It was the fear and not Cristiano the one that told Lionel that it was easy for him to decide to come out. He was the good guy after all. He was the one no one questioned as the best footballer. He was the one with a club that loved him unconditionally and that the press applauded the most. The fear put awful words in his mouth, hurting words, painful ones. He was not going to sacrifice his career for him, he was not going to let everything he had worked for vanished because he was gay. (“You’re not meaning all that, Cris. You’re just worried. You’re scared. But we can make it work. Just calm down”)

(It was not the fear but Cristiano the one who hung up and started crying in the couch and it was definitely him the one who paid the money, threw away the pictures and ignored Leo’s calls for two months straight until they stopped coming)

They never spoke properly again until almost a year after that day. Long weeks of lonely beds and cold sheets had turned into months and time had flown away erasing everything but the burning feeling in Cristiano’s chest. There were things that not even time could fade that easily. 

But then Leo got injured and it would probably take him two months to get better at best. It was certainly a torture to any football player but even more so if you were Lionel Messi. Cristiano knew the Argentine was probably hiding away at home only coming out to go to rehab and watch his team home matches. He didn’t know what it was that prompted him to take the plane to Barcelona but he couldn’t help but doing so. The past months had been rough for him and probably rougher for Leo and he felt like he owed his ex lover an apology and maybe an explanation.

Cristiano wasn’t surprised at all when Leo slammed the door shut as soon as he saw him. He knocked again and some long minutes after the door was opened again and the Portuguese was let in. Leo walked as fast as his crutches let him to the sofa and plopped himself there, looking at Cristiano quizzically, furrowed brows and bottom lip caught by his upper teeth. His breathing was too even to be natural and Cristiano knew Leo’s heart was beating just as wildly as his own.

“What do you want?”

“You’re injured

“Breaking news”

“Leo…”

“Cristiano.” The full name hurt more than an actual insult. Cristiano closed his eyes and sat in front of Lionel. He took a deep breath before speaking but his voice was shaking anyway.

“I’m sorry”

“No”

“What?”

“I forgive you. I already did, anyway. But we’re not going back together. You can get out of my house right now if that’s what you are trying to do. I mean it, Cris”

Cristiano looked at Leo with wide eyes and parted lips that couldn’t pronounce a single word. He hadn’t come with that idea in mind but after Leo pointed it out he noticed it had been there in the back of his head all the time. You could call it hope or regret, but he actually was expecting for Leo to want to be back with him. His voice was small when he spoke again, a little bit broken and almost completely hopeless. He knew Leo better than anyone else, after all.

“Why not?” 

“We hurt each other all the time, Cris.”

“I promise I won’t…”

“It’s not just about me.” Leo sighed and he looked older, more tired and sadder than Cristiano has ever seen him. “You’re scared of people finding out you’re gay. You’re terrified they know you were with me, to hear and read the comments of people, of those who think I’m better than you and what they’ll say about you being my boyfriend. I’m… I’m the face of all your demons, Cris.”

Cristiano’s chest hurt and his heart seemed to be punching his ribs. There was nothing he could say about that without lying. He tried to blink away his tears, bit hard his frown back.

“I still love you”

Leo looked at him with eyes full of tears. He didn’t have to say he loved him too for Cristiano to understand it. 

“But we can’t”

“Leo…”

“It will only do us bad, Cris. It’s true”

Cristiano wasn’t conscious of his movements, of him standing up and kneeling in front of Leo, of his hand caressing the injured knee carefully and the other lacing his fingers with Leo’s. He looked at the Argentine for a long moment asking for permission without saying the words and finally pressed their lips together. It was a chaste kiss but it got Cristiano’s head pounding and his heart beating dangerously fast in his chest. Leo didn’t open his eyes when they pulled away. His breathing was irregular and he was clutching Cristiano’s hand tightly.

“I’ll miss you”

“Me too. I’m sorry”

What was Lionel sorry for? The terrible timing of their relationship? The joke of destiny making them fall in love in a world that was not only homophobic but that held them as the greatest rivals of its most popular sport? Was the Argentine sorry for the screaming when they fought over the phone? Was he sorry for ever meeting him at all? For causing the heart break Cristiano was feeling right then? Maybe Cristiano himself felt sorry too, for all those reasons and because he was the one to fuck everything in the beginning (in the very first beginning when he kissed Leo for the first time) but  he never wanted Leo to feel like that. He wasn’t guilty of their terrible fate.

“Don’t be. Don’t apologize. ‘s not your fault”

Cristiano kissed his cheek and let his hand go. Lionel didn’t open his eyes. The Portuguese didn’t need anyone to get to the front door.

“Neither is yours”

Cristiano wished it was true.


	13. The Lucky One (Neymessi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And they tell you that you’re lucky.  
> But you’re so confused,  
> 'Cause you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used.  
> And all the young things line up to take your place.
> 
> Another name goes up in lights. You wonder if you’ll make it out alive."  
> -The Lucky One
> 
> Rating: Teen and Up  
> Tags: AU, lionel is kind of ed sheeran, and neymar is the new justin bieber, of sorts, mentions of drug use, nothing explicit but it might be triggering for some, alussion to adiction and stuff, it's quite light but just in case,  
> Words: 2657

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/theluckyone.html)  
> 
>
>> Well, hello... It's been MONTHS, God. I'm sorry in case anyone was waiting for an "update". I had a hell of a summer and university almost killed me these first months. I'm trying to write again because I seriously need it and I also missed this series a lot. Hope you like this shot, I re-wrote it like three times and it's nothing like the first idea I had for it but I kinda like it.
>> 
>> Lots of love and thank you for reading xx 

“Who is this?”

Lionel Messi was confused, to say the least. It was well past mid-night and the secluded neighbourhood where he lived in was in complete silence. It was a cloudy night that threatened with starting pouring any second but there was a full moon hidden behind those clouds making everything shine with some kind of ghostly light. 

Lionel tried to focus his sleepy eyes on the mini-screen in front of him. His senses were too muffled with sleep to be of much help and he could not think of one person that would ring his bell at such an ungodly hour. Gerard, his friend and former manager would have called if any kind of emergency had occurred. The same would have happened with Dani or Andrés. Javier was not even in the country. The Argentine made an extra effort until he could note the hunched frame of a young man. He noticed that the young man was speaking and only then he listened the soft sounds coming out of the speakers.

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you. Who are you again? What do you need?”

“Leo? Is that you? God, please let this be you.”

“Neymar?”

“Leo? It’s you! God, thanks God it’s you!”

“What… What are you doing?”

Now Lionel was utterly concerned. Neymar was in the city only for the night. He had just played and amazing concert, as Gerard had informed him via Snapchat. There was no reason for the Brazilian to have come to his house, kilometres away from the city centre and from Neymar’s hotel. Plus they haven’t talked in ages (though not precisely due to Neymar’s fault).

“Leo, please. Let me in. It’s freezing and I think it’s about to start raining.”

The Argentine got lost for a few seconds looking at the tiny and blurry figure of Neymar in the screen. Then he let out a long breath he didn’t notice he was holding and buzzed the Brazilian in.

“Thank you.”

By the time Neymar knocked on Lionel’s door the first drops had started fallen from the sky. Lionel opened the door immediately and looked at Neymar for some long seconds before letting him in.

They walked in silence to the big sofa in the living room. They sat next to each other but not quite touching. Lionel frowned. Neymar wasn’t wearing a coat and didn’t look like he was a hundred percent conscious of what was happening around him.

“Ney?” The young man looked at Lionel straight to his eyes without moving his lips. Lionel felt his heart breaking. Those beautiful and shiny eyes that have haunted his dreams since the first time they met weren’t there anymore. The hazel and green was clouded with dark shades of exhaustion and poisoning substances. A full storm was threatening to fall down the path of his caramel cheeks.

Lionel couldn’t help remembering the first time they met. He couldn’t help thinking about that happy naïve boy jumping around and smiling at all the famous artists surrounding him. He could picture clearly as ever how the young man had stepped into the stage to present an award for the first time and how he mispronounced the name of all the nominees.

_ “I was so damn nervous, I fucked up so bad.” Neymar whispered not looking at Lionel while he took a seat back next to him. Even if he wasn’t addressed directly, Lionel felt the urge to say something comforting. He still remembered how it was back then when he had just started. _

_ “Don’t worry. You did fine.” _

_ “Really?” Neymar looked at him with wide sincere eyes and Lionel had to use all his willpower not to flinch. The Brazilian boy’s eyes were too clear, they left too much room for people to come in and destroy everything they find in them. Lionel wished he could warn him about it without spoiling the magic of the moment he was living. But Neymar would have to learn first hand. _

Now, facing those tormented eyes, Lionel wished fiercely he had been wrong. Never in his life had he desired so much to be mistaken. But there Neymar was, biting his lower lip and holding his breath, looking at Lionel with such a raw expression that it hurt to see. He tried to get closer to Neymar, tried to wrap an arm around his back, but the Brazilian moved away and Lionel flinched. He deserved Neymar’s rejection.

“You… You were right.”

“About what?”

“It sucks. This sucks. I... I’m tired, Leo. So damn tired.”

And with no other warning Neymar started crying. He started crying without trying to hide it. It was full of sobs and hiccups and thick tears running through his cheeks until they fell from the edges of his face. This time he let Leo hold him. Neymar buried his face in the crook of Lionel’s neck and abandoned himself to his crying even more. Leo bit his lip almost bringing blood. He clutched Neymar’s shoulders with more strength and breathed slowly. Once he was sure his own tears will stay in his eyes he started caressing Neymar’s back up and down, waiting for the young man to cry all his pain away.

As Neymar’s whimpers quiet down a little Lionel gave himself a bit of room in his head to think about what was happening. He was holding an obvious broken Neymar who had been probably wandering around the city in God knows which state. Lionel suspected what could have happened but kept pushing  the thought away. He didn’t want to think about Neymar like that. He didn’t want to think about the sweet man being already corrupted and ruined by the awful industry they both had chosen to work for.

A sudden rush of hate towards all those people who had made his life a living hell ran through Lionel’s veins. But this time the hate was even worse because the one hurting right now was Neymar. Neymar had trusted the world not to fuck his life and had been stabbed in the back in return. Lionel hated them all. He hated every record company owner and every business man in tuxedo making money out of their dreams. He hated every single person who took advantage of boys and girls like Neymar or himself and then sucked the life out of them just for a few more Euros in their pockets.

He hate it all (probably that was the reason he had given up, after all).

_ “But why? How can someone hate those things?” _

_ “When you’ve spent as much time in the industry as me you eventually start to hate those things and all those people. Trust me.” _

_ “Oh, I will never hate it.” Lionel smiled, a bit of melancholy twisting his features. _

_ “I used to say the same. A long time ago.” _

_ “And what happened?” Lionel remained silent. He didn’t want to do this to Neymar, not in the middle of a night that was meant to celebrate him and his brand new album. “Come on. It can’t be that bad.” Neymar nudged Leo’s knee with his and the Argentine couldn’t help smiling. He sighed deeply. _

_ “It’s shit, Ney. That’s what happens. It all goes to hell. Because people are mean and they only _ _  
_ _ care about money. And sometimes you don’t do so well with sales and they fuck you over.” He took a deep breath but words kept falling from his lips without a chance of stopping them. “People… they only care of you making money for them. They give you stuff to keep you going and you take them because you think that’s what you have to do.” He looked at Neymar straight to his eyes and the Brazilian swallowed. “Don’t ever think you have to do that. Never. Please.” Lionel didn’t speak for a bit but then started talking again, voice low and hushed. “People are horrendous. And you eventually get tired, Ney. So damn tired of everything.” _

_ “You… you sound like you’re in the verge of giving up.” Lionel smirked and closed his eyes. Neymar’s concerned look was too much to handle. _

_ “I may be.” _

“I’m tired too.”

Lionel jumped a little when he heard Neymar’s voice. He looked at the Brazilian while he straightened in the sofa. They looked at each other for a long time.

“You sound like you’re in the verge of giving up.”

Neymar smiled and pushed Lionel lightly. Leo felt some of the weigh in his chest disappearing.

“You don’t get to quote me while I’m having a break down.”

“Why not? It helped when you talked to me back then.”

Neymar snorted. “You’re on an indefinite hiatus, Leo. Almost a year since it started. I don’t think I exactly helped.”

“You did.” Lionel moved his hand a little over the sofa. Stopped. Moved it a millimetre more, doubted. Then he breathed in and took Neymar’s hand in his, squeezing lightly. Neymar smile and intertwined their fingers.

“You ignored be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You know,” He let go of Leo’s hand and the Argentine felt the world falling around him. “when Dani told me you were going in this hiatus I thought it was a good idea. It would probably do you good. Let you find your love for the music again. I… I was okay with it. And then he told me you didn’t want to talk with any of us. That you have changed your number. And I thought that you couldn’t have been serious. At least not about me.” Neymar looked at Lionel and his eyes were filled with tears again. Lionel found incredibly hard not to cry himself too. “Not with me. I thought you couldn’t just ignore me. I… I convinced Geri to give me your new number…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ney. I’m… I’m so, so sorry.”

A pair of skinny but strong arms wrapped around Lionel’s neck and he felt the tears running down his face, wetting the shoulder of Neymar’s expensive button-up. The fabric was soft and still smelled of sweat, alcohol and nicotine. Lionel breathed in deeper and could smell something different below that: Neymar’s aftershave and something that resembled the smell of wood and paper. It made Leo think about writing sessions in the studio, about sappy songs and some more deep ones. It made him think of soft and tentative lips pressed against his and quick hands putting instruments aside and grabbing every inch of each other that was at reach.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. I… I think I get it now.”

“I wish you didn’t.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They stayed like that for a long time. The constant and quick rhythm of rain falling in the roof and the windows filled the air. Lionel started to feel his limbs go numb and the white noise that filled his ears right before he fall asleep. For a moment he entertained the idea of just taking Neymar’s hand and going to sleep. For sure he had dreamt about doing just that for a few months now. But Lionel couldn’t forget how he had ended in Neymar’s arms that night. He needed to know what had happened.

“Ney.”

“Hm?”

Lionel pulled apart and cupped Neymar’s face in his hands. He leaned forward and kissed him chastely. Neymar kissed him back, letting his eyes closed when Lionel started speaking.

“What happened tonight? Aren’t you supposed to be in your apartment? Or in a hotel room?”

Neymar didn’t open his eyes. He furrowed his eyebrows and pouted a little.

“You’ll get mad. You made me promise I wouldn’t… But I wasn’t in it, Leo. I could barely get of my bed today morning. There was no way I could have… I could have performed tonight… I needed… They told me that I had to do it…”

A few tears were already silently rolling down Neymar’s cheek. Lionel wiped them away and sighed. It was more or less what he had suspected.

“Is it the first time this happens?” Lionel knew the answer even before asking, yet he couldn’t help the shudder that took over his body when Neymar slowly shook his head. “How many... times before?” Silence and Neymar’s pulse going faster under Leo’s fingertips. “How many, Ney? I promise I won’t get mad.”

Neymar opened his eyes abruptly. One of his hands was placed above Leo’s right one. “You hadn’t called me ‘Ney’ since… Well… A year ago, you know.” Neymar lowered his eyes and sighed. He bit his lower lip and Lionel had to force himself not to lean in and kiss him. “Too many to count. I… it started like half a year ago. I felt so sick but we couldn’t cancel the show…”

“Is it just when you’re sick? You take them just when you’re feeling sick?” The silence following his answer was enough answer. Lionel tried to take a deep breath but it got stuck in his throat. He leaned forward until his forehead was pressed to Neymar’s. His next words came in whispers. “Why didn’t you tell Dani? He would have helped.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re not…”

“I was a bother for you, though. That’s why you pushed me away. You knew this would happen. You just didn’t want me to be around when it all went down.”

Lionel stopped breathing altogether. He pushed Neymar a little apart from him just to make sure the Brazilian was looking at him. His own heart was beating wildly because that has never been his intention and he couldn’t stand thinking that Neymar felt like that because of him.

“I never thought, not even for a second, that you were a bother, Ney. I was an asshole when I pushed you away but it was not just you. And it was not because I didn’t want to see you. I just needed… I needed to get away from all of this. I was too intoxicated with all of it. I felt like I was drowning…”

“And you left me in the water by myself.”

Lionel closed his eyes. His hands were shaking now and he knew his voice would be just the same.

“I’m sorry.”

They stayed in silence. The minutes seemed to last hours and Leo felt his heart beating erratically and painfully against his ribcage. 

“Leo…”

“Hm?”

“Open your eyes, please.” He opened his eyes to find Neymar kneeling between his legs. He looked up at Lionel and smiled a little. “I don’t need your apologies, Leo. I need you. I can’t do this anymore, not like this.”

Lionel took Neymar’s hands and motioned the young man to sit on his lap. Neymar made himself comfortable quickly and tuck his head below Lionel’s chin.

“Are you quitting then?”

“You think I should?” Neymar was grabbing Lionel’s pyjamas’ shirt fiercely. The Argentine took his hand, and worked Neymar’s fingers until they loosened and intertwined with his.

“Only if you want to.”

“But I don’t… I mean… I want to keep making music. I want to play. I don’t want… the rest.”

“We could always talk to Dani. Geri could help us, too. Masche could get you out of your contract in less than a month if you really want to do it.”

“I’m scared, Leo. I don’t want to lose it. I love playing, I still love it.”

“I’m glad. That’s important.” Lionel kissed Neymar’s forehead. “We’ll sort it out. And if it doesn’t work you can always come here and we could write silly love songs until the end of times.”

“I like that idea a lot, in fact.” Neymar made himself comfortable in Lionel’s lap while the Argentine grabbed a comforter and wrapped it around them.

The rain outside stopped pouring, the night went back to its peaceful silence, Neymar breathed puffs of air to Lionel’s neck and the Argentine let himself drift to sleep. 

They were going to be fine. 


	14. Everything Has Changed (Messi/Ter Stegen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "All I know is we said, "Hello."  
> So dust off your highest hopes  
> All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed  
> All I know is a new found grace  
> All my days I'll know your face  
> All I know since yesterday is everything has changed"  
> -Everything Has Changed
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: short, actually a drabble, and fluffy as hell, AU, leo owns a bookstore, marc andre is an exchange student, they are drinking chamomile tea, in case you want to know, and also, hope you like the pairing, i may be suprising you all or maybe not, lol,  
> Words: 430

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/everythinghaschanged.html)  
>   
> Listen to the song [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1oM3kQpXRo)  
> 
> 
> I've been dying to write both about this song and this pairing so much, I'm quite happy with the result. I had to re-write this thing six times more or less, though. Couldn't bring myself to make it longer, nor could I make this two tell you more than what it's shown here. Stubborn shy characters lol. Hope you like it!

“What do you mean you don’t like rain?”

“It makes me sad. Doesn’t bring nice things to my memory.”

They sip their cups of tea and Marc smiles. 

“It brought me to you.”

“I know.”

The sound of rain is soothing, something Lionel has not noticed before. And the room is not cold anymore. His scarf is lying lazily in the floor next to Marc’s wet coat. He looks at the German guy over the top of his mug and can’t help smiling.

“It is… weird. You know.” Lionel takes a second to think his words and meanwhile takes Marc’s hand in his. He has always been pale, but the boy’s hands in his were even paler. “I don’t do this usually.”

“Neither do I.” Marc takes Lionel’s hand and brings it to his lips. He presses the softest of kisses, lips barely touching the cold skin. The German boy smiles. “Your hands are so cold.”

“Shut up.” Lionel is blushing but doesn’t try to hide it. He places his hands back around his mug, the third of the evening, and hopes some of its warmth would go to his fingers. “I’ve wondered… Quite a few times, in fact…” Marc chuckles and Lionel feels his cheeks going even pinker. “I’ve wondered if I’m not actually dreaming.”

Marc leans forward and presses his lips to Lionel’s. The time stands still just like it did when Marc entered the bookstore a few hours ago, a few sweet touches and long stares ago. Then the German pinches Leo’s arm and the Argentine screams before he starts laughing.

“See, not dreaming at all.” Lionel collapses against Marc’s side and buries his face on his chest. The boy wraps an arm around him. Marc breathes deeply, his heart pounding against his chest like he has finally found the place where he belongs.  “Did I really just meet you today?”

“It seems so.” Lionel looks up and smiles. Marc’s eyes are blue like the clear sky of Rosario and the calm sea of Barcelona. A careful hand caresses the pale skin and cold fingertips follow the trace of the faintest freckles on his cheeks. “But I don’t quite believe it.”

They stay in silence for a while. The mugs of tea are long forgotten over the table. Leo’s hands are buried under Marc’s shirt, searching for a more effective source of warmth. He buries his face even more in Marc’s chest and sighs.

“Do you feel it to?”

“Feel what?

“The butterflies.”

Marc smiles and kisses the top of Leo’s head.

“I do, Leo. I do.” 


	15. Starlight (Sergi Roberto/Marc Muniesa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He said, "Look at you, worrying too much about things you can't change.  
> You'll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way."  
> He was trying to skip rocks on the ocean, saying to me,  
> "Don't you see the starlight, starlight?  
> Don't you dream impossible things?""  
> -Starlight, Taylor Swift
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: fluff, post 2015/16 double, before the celebration at Camp Nou to be precise, and also a flashback to 2008/2009 Barca's Juvenile A fictictious celebration of their very real double, a tiny little bit of agnst, this ship is my soft spot btw, there was no way i wouldn't write them,  
> Words: 2186

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/starlight.html)  
>   
> 
> 
> As everytime I write this ship, this is dedicated to Ana. xx

_ 1899 neix el club que porto al cor, blaugrana son els colors. Fooooootball Club Barceloooooona! _

Something really close to magic was floating in the air. It filled their lungs with every breath and made the blood pump faster and the pupils go wider. Thousands of people were crowding the Camp Nou, pouring bits of their soul into their chants, ready to celebrate their two new titles. Those who were old enough to remember knew that this was not the usual years ago, so it was something to be celebrated, even if the present told everyone such success was merely the expected.

_ 1899 neix el club que porto al cor, blaugrana son els colors. _

In an enormous room just few metres away from the pitch, the players were waiting to meet their people in that incredible celebration. Sergi Roberto laughed at the sight of his teammates, some of the older children and a couple of close friends jumping while singing the well known chant to the top of their lungs. Sergi smiled. His cheeks even hurt a little from so much smiling but he had no time to think about it. In fact, he hadn’t had time to feel anything but joy and exhilaration in a good while. It was such a good feeling: to feel like there was nothing before or after that deep happiness.

_ Fooooootball Club Barceloooooona! _

The people around him moved in the most imperfect synchrony he was ever witnessed. Every single person was entranced in the light feeling of utter bliss. There were bursts of laughter everywhere and conversations in more languages that should be allowed in just one room. The high pitched screams from the little ones running around fell like fireworks around them, making the adults smiled at them. Sergi had rarely felt in such harmony with his world. That, until a pair of strong and secure arms enveloped his waist.

The world fitted perfectly around them because ‘together’ was just their perfect state.

The crowd in the middle of the room kept singing, loud enough to cover the thousand of voices from the Camp Nou.

_ 1899 neix el club que porto al cor, blaugrana son els colors. Fooooootball Club Barceloooooona! _

Soft lips were pressed to the side of his head followed by quiet words whispered just above his ear: “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m glad you make it for today.”

“I am, too.”

Someone from the staff appeared in the room and shouted in clear Spanish that they had five minutes to go. The room buzzed with sudden energy. The volume of the voices raised and so did the speed of their words. Everyone wanted to be out already, to see the people in the stands celebrating with them, to watch the children running around and playing with the confetti.

Gerard, because it always was Gerard, started chanting again and soon enough there were four or five more singing with him and even some of the children joined the noisy crowd.

_ “1899 neix el club que porto al cor...” _

Muni nudged his waist and Sergi looked up. They smiled at each other and Sergi leaned back closer to Muni. The crowd kept singing as the man came to warn them that there were just three minutes left. Muni sang softly to Sergi’s ear.

_ “...blaugrana son els colors. “ _

Sergi laughed to himself and closed his eyes. He let himself be carried away by the voices around him.

_ “Fooooootball Club Barceloooooona!” _

They were seventeen and they had just won the Juvenile Champions Cup. Sergi was looking at his friends jumping around in the backyard of one of their houses. There were Christmas lights everywhere and Barcelona’s posters in the walls. It was only the team and some of their friends but to them it felt like they were celebrating their own double in the middle of the Camp Nou.

Marc Bartra ran to Sergi and handed him his digital camera. “Take a picture!”

“And what about me!? I will be missing!” Marc only laughed on his face and started asking everyone to come together for the picture. But their friends were deep in their chants and wouldn’t listen to him.

_ “1899 neix el club que porto al cor…!” _

“I will take another pic so you can be there, too” Muni’s voice came from behind but it didn’t surprise Sergi. It never did. A lingering hand was placed in the smallest of his back and Sergi looked around with worry.

“Muni…”

“Shh… They are not paying attention.” Muni placed a quick kiss in his temple and Sergi couldn’t help but smiling and melting to the tender touches. He was so fucking in love with Marc Muniesa, it was not even funny.

Marc walked back to them smiling dumbly and took the camera from Sergi’s hands. He stared at the couple with a knowing smirk and his eyes glistening mischievously. Sergi couldn’t remember why he was once so afraid to tell his friend he liked men and was in love with Muni. Marc did not only support them, he had verbally requested to be the best man in their future wedding.

“Stop looking at us like that!” Sergi wanted to hide in Muni’s chest but decide against it. There were too many people around them. Muni just barked a loud laughter and brought Sergi closer to his body, unaware or uncaring of the assumptions people could make of his gesture.

“Here, take the stairs to the rooftop.” Marc looked around motioned with his hand to the roof of the two story house. “Josep told me it is really nice but his mum didn’t let him make the party up there. You can go and snog for a while, I will cover you.”

Muni clapped Marc’s shoulder, “You’re the fucking best.”

“I know.”

The three of them laughed and then Muni gave a quick look around and dragged Sergi to the house and up the stairs until they reached the rooftop and the starry night was displayed above them. The chanting of their teammates flooded through the air, intertwined with the cool summer wind.

Free of the fear of someone seeing them, Sergi hugged Muni tightly, hiding his face in the crook of his neck and breathing deeply the scent of his boyfriend. Muni hugged him back and kissed his hair. They stayed in silence, just enjoying the simple fact of being together. Below them, in the garden, their friends were singing again, jumping around like little kids.

“Don’t they know another song?”

“Don’t you like it? Foooootball Club Barceloooona…” Muni started singing under his breath making Sergi laugh. The night was warm and clear. The sound of their friends celebrating downstairs mixed with the placid beatings of Marc’s and his own heartbeats. “What are you thinking, hm?”

“I just… I wished we could be like this with them. Like… like all the guys with their girlfriends. It’s not fair.” Muni went still for a second or two but then forced his muscles to relax. He started stroking Sergi’s back in a soothing motion. “And you know what’s the worst part? That it’s not getting any better. If we become professionals this is only going to be worst…”

Sergi was pulled apart from Muni’s body carefully but quickly. The slightly taller boy was looking at him with wide, scared eyes. Sergi didn’t quite understand what was happening.

“It sounds like, you’re about to break up with me…”

“What? No!” Sergi made a quick check of his last words and realized of their severity. He cursed under his breath and got closer to Muni. He placed his hands behind his neck and pressed their lips together. “No matter how difficult it may get, you’re the best thing I’ve got, Muni.”

“Listen to you being all cheesy, that’s new.” Sergi pecked his lips again and hugged him tightly. He didn’t want Muni to feel like he regretted being with him. Even if it could cost them his career, he wouldn’t trade him for nothing in this world.

“Shut up, I’m trying to be nice!” His words were muffled by Muni’s wild hair and drowned by the loud singing of their friends.

Muni laughed and wrapped his arms around Sergi even tighter. They were not so much kissers as they were huggers. Whenever they were allowed to, they couldn’t keep their hands from each other. Feeling the other’s body close themselves made them feel secure, like they had finally found the place where they belong to.

“And, by the way, you’re becoming a pro someday, Sergi. You are definitely going to.”

“Stop being silly.” Sergi pushes Muni’s shoulder jokingly. He won’t ever admit he’s a bit jealous that his boyfriend had been already called up to play with the first when he had not even made it to Barcelona B yet.

“You know I mean it.” Muni ran a hand through Sergi’s curls and looked up at the sky full of stars. He smiled. “Imagine if by then things are different and we don’t have to hide in rooftops to celebrate our titles.”

“I don’t think so.”

Someone, probably Marc, had started singing again.  _ 1899 neix el club que porto al cor… _

“It may happen.”

It was loud and reached them in the rooftop right as if they were in the garden with the rest of the team.  _ Blaugrana son els color. Fooootball Club Barcelooooona! _

Muni and Sergi looked at each other and began to laugh. They joined the song and jumped around the rooftop until Sergi collapsed breathless against Muni’s chest.

“You really think we’ll make it and that… we will win titles?” Sergi’s voice was full of hope even if he tried to hide it.

“I’m sure of it.” Sergi laughed and pulled apart to look at Muni’s face. He was smiling too and immediately took Sergi’s hands in his. There was something clearly bothering the blue-eyed boy. “What?”

_ 1899 neix el club que porto al cor… _

“It all just sounds so far away. So… impossible.”

Muni gave a quick glance to the sky and smiled back at his boyfriend. The shiny stars were reflected in Sergi’s eyes and Muni thought he had never thing such a beautiful thing.

_ Blaugrana son els color… _

“And don’t you dream impossible things?”

_ “Foooootbal Club Barcelooooona!” _

“Uncle Sergi! Here’s a little girl asking for you!” Marc Bartra appeared from within the crowd with a tearing Gala in his arms. Sergi detangled himself from his boyfriend and extended his arms to pick up the baby girl.

“Gala, sweetie! Why are you crying love!”

The little baby girl’s eyes were rimmed with tears and she was clutching her father’s shirt with very small, very chubby and very tight fists.  Marc handed her to Sergi’s waiting arms and she quickly made himself comfortable, hiding his little face in his uncle’s neck.

“Why is she so upset?” Gala was usually the most happy and calm baby around but right then she looked scared and annoyed. At the question, Marc’s cheek turned a pale shade of pink.

“I forgot her earplugs. Meli wants to kill me.”

They stopped their little conversation when the same man from before came to the room and told them it was time. Muni tried to get Gala to look at him but the little girl was still not used to him and preferred to go to her father’s arms instead.

“Don’t worry, it’s just until she’s old enough to remember you even if she doesn’t see you every day.”

“Yeah, she’s still too little I guess.” Muni smiled a bit sadly but kissed Gala’s forehead nonetheless. The little girl looked at him for a good while. Then she frowned and hid his face in his father’s neck.

“I gotta give her to Meli.” Marc smiled at his friends and hurried to the other side of the centre of the room where everyone was gathering to finally go to the pitch. Marc pinched Sergi’s arm lightly to get his attention.

“I’ll be waiting with the rest of the families in the pitch.”

“I know.” Sergi smiled warmly at his boyfriend and leaned forward to kiss him sweetly. They stayed with their foreheads pressed together for a few seconds. It was liberating, to have at least one semi-public space where they could display their love. Muni was caressing his arm up and down with just his fingertips.

“Told you we’ll make it.”

“You weren’t a hundred percent right, you know?”

“End of the season is good for making all kind of announcements.” Sergi knew Muni was only joking but he couldn’t help almost choking at the sudden proposition.

“Marc Munies, we’re not discussing our coming our right here, right now!” Sergi murmured over Muni’s lips trying to pretend he was angry but without being able to hide his smile. He kissed him once more and looked straight to his boyfriend’s eyes.

“Go, people are waiting for you.”

And as Sergi joined the group still looking at Muni’s smiling face he could clearly listen to the stands pouring their voice onto the well known chant, incredibly, deafenly, victoriously loud.  _ Foooooootball Club Barceloooooona! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Gosh, I love them so much.)
> 
> Okay, some clarifications just because:  
> -In the seaon 2008/2009 FC Barcelona's Juvenile A won the "División de Honor Juvenil" (which would be like the La LIga title) and the "Copa de Campeones de Liga Juvenil" (something like the Champions but only within Spain, is the most importan title you can win as a Juvenile.) And they were about to won "the triplet" but lost the Juvenile Copa del Rey final to Sevilla.  
> -They won the Copa de Campeones in a final against Celta by 2-0. Marc Bartra was in the starting eleven of that game. Neither Marc Muniesa nor Sergi Roberto played.  
> -In 2008, Muniesa suffered a terible injury that kept him out of the pitch for over 8 months. However, once he recovered and made it to Juvenile A, in 2009 he called the attention of Guardiola. He called Muniesa to play some minutes with the first team in the last game of La Liga. Muni was subbed in in the second half and given a red card at 82'. He's the fourth youngest player to debut in the first team.  
> -Pep even called him to go with the first team to England to the Champions League final against Manchester United.
> 
> That's it! Hope you liked the shot and... omg, I can't belive there are just four fics left!  
> Thanks so much for reading!


	16. Begin Again (Piqué/Messi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've been spending the last eight months  
> Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end  
> But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again"  
> \- Begin Again
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: au, geri and leo went to uni together, fluff, friends to lovers of sorts, past abusive relationship, barely there but just in case,  
> Words: 1727

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Listen here [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMPEd8m79Hw)  
>   
> Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/beginagain.html)  
> 
> 
> Ah! I've wanted to write this almost from the very begining of Burning Red lol. And with this shot we finish the regular album! I can't quite believe to be honest. I already have the plots and ships for the next three shots and I'm on winter holiday so it should have something to post pretty soon. Thank you for reading!

It is him, it is Leo. _His_ Leo. Maybe he is a little bit skinnier; and now he has a beard, a _ginger_ beard. But it is still him. The eyes scanning the café are the deep shade of brown Geri remembered and his lips pressed into a tight line are the same ones too. Gerard stands up and raises his hand so Leo can see him. God, he has missed him so much.

The Argentine looks at him and Gerard’s heartbeat speeds up. His lips turn into a smile as his friend walks closer to him, dismantling with each step the long months of distance. The next thing Geri knows is that his arms are enclosing Leo’s body and that one of his hands is pressing Leo’s head to his chest. He places a soft kiss to the top of his friend’s hair and lets him go. The small still rational part of his brain wants to prevent Lionel from noticing the wild rhythm of his heart.

Leo tilts his head up and smiles with his lips stretched and all of his teeth showing. That is a rare smile, Gerard knows as much. The Argentine takes his headphones out and laughs airily. Gerard can notice Leo’s skin is paler due to the lack of the constant sun of Barcelona. It makes the few freckles over his nose stand out, and it also makes more noticeable the blush spreading over his skin.

“Are we going to stay here standing or what?”

Gerard moves the chair right next to the one he is using, offering Leo to take a seat. He does so without uttering a word. When Geri sits beside him he notices the Argentine is letting his breath out slowly. He is about to ask Leo if everything is alright but then his friend looks at him and gives him a smile warm like the sun itself. That is enough to calm Gerard for the time being.

A short girl with curly hair and a face full of freckles comes to take their orders. Gerard orders cappuccinos and brownies for both of them and focuses his attention back on Leo. He is flicking his phone around, headphones still plugged in and _Spotify_ still open. His shoulders are hunched and his head is slightly down. Geri is dying to ask thousand of things but he remembers the message on his phone sent straight from Argentina and settles with a standard: “How are you?”

Leo shruggs. Then he sighs. Then he looks up at Geri and back at the table.

“I’m… average, I think.” His mouth stays slightly open while he considers his next words carefully. “Which is… good. Or at least it’s better.”

“That’s good. So you… uh…” _You can’t ask him. You shouldn’t ask him. Just speak to him like you would have before he left. He’s still Leo. He’s still_ your _Leo._ “So… you have a beard now.”

“Uh? Oh. Yeah… I hum…”

“I like it.”

“You do?” Gerard stares carefully at Lionel’s open eyes and at his lower lip caught by the upper one. Then he focuses back on Leo’s eyes. He feels an incredible urge to hug him. But that is nothing new, being honest with himself.

“Yeah, of course I do. It suits you. You look handsome.” The Argentine relaxes visibly and Gerard pattes himself mentally. “It just fucks me up that is ginger, like. What the fuck with that?”

It takes Leo a second longer than normal to understand it is a joke. Gerard can tell because, for a brief second, his features fell to the floor. But the following he is laughing earnestly, his happiness mirroring instantly in Gerard’s own little giggle. Lionel runs a hand through his hair, scratches his beard and then keeps messing with the hairs in the back of his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know why either.” He hesitates. “The guys have teased me about it lots.”

 _The guys._ Gerard opens his mouth but is interrupted by the waitress with their coffees. Geri pays for everything before Leo can even take his wallet. When the Spaniard looks back at his friend he is smiling at him over the top of his steaming cup.

“Still a gentleman, I see.”

Warm. That’s all Gerard can feel from the outside and from within. His whole Universe is collapsing under the pressure of Lionel’s bright eyes and pink-tinted cheeks. And it feels warm all over.

“I missed you.” The words tumble out of his lips before he can contain them. Leo smiles and it looks like he’s thanking Gerard for his words.

“I missed you, too. A lot.”

They drink their coffees and eat their brownies in silence. It’s weird. They were not like this before. _Before._ That’s were everything changes. Gerard looks up at Lionel and finds his brown eyes analyizing him carefully. It’s like Leo is trying to recognize him too. They smile at each other. It’s fine. It’s different but is still them, just different. Just the new version of them _after_ that before.

Gerard wants to ask about him. He desperately needs to know about it. But he knows he can’t and stays quiet. He enjoys the warm bubble of happiness that is surrounding them.

“Andrés told me you’re now in good terms with Ramos. I can’t quite believe it.” Gerard chokes on a bit of brownie and gulps a bit of Leo’s coffee by mistake. “Hey!”

“Sorry.” Leo’s eyes were shining like he was about to throw the punchline of a very good joke. His lips were twisting sligthly upwards and there were small crinckles in the corners of his eyes. Gerard wants to capture that expression forever.

“Can I be the bestman or has Cesc beaten me to it?”

Gerard remembers universities’ rivalries and fighting Ramos each of the ninety minutes of every match. He remembershis friends joking about them getting together some day. He remembers when Cesc teased him during a match too loud and too close to Iker Casillas and how the goalie almost punches Geri. It’s all too much and Gerard explodes with a big laughter, throwing his head back with one hand covering his mouth and the other grabbing the table for some support.  When he can start breathing normally he finds Leo’s amused face looking at him. He is smiling warmly.

“God, I have forgotten about all that.”

“I’m sure it was due to the concussion Iker gave you in that last final.”

“It was a mistake, he didn’t wanted to…” Leo was arching his eyebrows and Geri felt forced to stop talking. “He has no reason to be jealous. Never had, to be honest. It was all  because of you all.”

Lionel chuckles and then falls silent. He takes the last sip of his coffe and looks at Gerard straight to his eyes.

“Never?”

“What? Me and Sergio?" Gerard laughs and shakes his hand. The idea is ridiculous. Leo stays silent. "Lionel do you really think…”

“I was just asking.”

He looks small again. Small and fragile and scared and Gerard feels incredibly dumb. He waits a few seconds and places a tentaive hand over Leo’s. His friend doesn’t react so Gerard decides to squeeze it a little and then to intertwine their fingers.  There’s a soft blush creeping to Leo’s cheeks but he’s still not talking. His eyes are still focused on the table.

“I’ve never cared about Ramos in that way. I didn’t even tolerate him up until a year ago.” Lionel lets out a long breath and almost all the tension falls off his shoulders. Gerard’s own body relaxes too. His head falls forward a little and he's mere centimeters from resting his forehead on the side of Leo’s head. He knows he can’t tell Leo what he really wants to say, or at least he knows he shouldn’t. So he says the closest thing he can think of: “I missed you a lot.”

Leo chuckles and his whole body melts to the side, resting some of his weight on Gerard and finally pressing their heads together. Gerard can feel some of the warmth of Lionel’s body and wishes they were at his apartment and not in a very public café.

“Can we go to your place?”

The words startle Geri. He nods clumsily, bumping his forehead with the top of Leo’s head and making them laugh. When they stand up, Leo looks up at him biting his lower lip. Gerard closes his eyes and breaths in slowly before hanging Leo’s backpack in one shoulder and taking Leo’s hand in his. Leo doesn’t say anything but grabs his hand fiercely.

They start walking and Gerard’s head is spinning around. He’s heart beats in a strrange rhythm, alternating the excitement of maybe finally having the chance to open up with Leo and the certainty that his friend is not in the best of the positions to handle with this kind of situations. His thoughts are running wildly thorugh his mind until he realizes Leo’s hand is just hanging from his, not really gripping it. He looks down at his friend and feels like his heart has stopped beating.

“Masche told me before I came  back that I shouldn’t… He says that I need time to heal.”

They stop walking and Gerard doesn’t rememer placing his hands on Leo’s shoulders, but they are there. He moves them until his hands are cupping his friend’s face. Gerard is charmed by the feeling of the beard under his fingers. Leo closes his eyes and sighs.

“Masche’s right. He always is.”

“You could help. With the healing.” Leo can’t meet his eyes and Gerard thinks he feels ashamed. He laughs a little and kisses his forehead.

“It’ll be my pleasure.” Geri doesn’t pull apart.

“It might take time.” Leo’s small hands are grabbing the sides of his shirt like his life depends on it. Geri smiles.

“I’ve waited a lot already. What’s a few more months?”

They both giggle, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Gerard wants to lean forward and press his lips to Leo’s but he knows he shouldn’t.

Leo surprises him instead. He kisses him briefly and pulls apart. It’s small, just a beginning, a promise of what could be. Lionel’s eyes shine with the certainty that he had found what he needs and Gerard feels like he’s breathing the fresh morning air of the first day of spring.


	17. The Moment I Knew (Neymar/Rafinha)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You should've been here.  
> And I would've been so happy"  
> -The Moment I Knew, Taylor Swift
> 
> Rating: General Audiences  
> Tags: ANGSTY, no really, so agnsty, sad ending, blame the song, that's it really,  
> Words: 3142

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/themomentiknew.html)  
> 
> 
> You don't have an idea of how much I've suffered writing this: it was painful because it is so sad (blame the song, it's freaking sad too), I got writer's block, I had to take several finals and Uni's classes re-started. Somehow I came to this final version I'm more or less happy with. There are bits I really love and some that I'm not incredibly proud of. Hope you enjoy it anyway.   
> Let's hope I can update the next one shot sooner, I won't be making any promise though.   
> Thanks a lot for reading!

Neymar was the furthest thing from a morning person. Taking him out of bed before ten in the morning neared a miracle. Special morning classes and the few unlucky days he was given the morning shift in the shop were the only things that forced him to wake up with the sun. However, there was one person who was the exception to this rule (and to many others), and that exception was Rafinha.

His mobile had ringed at 6am sharp and Neymar had woken up ready to kill someone until he glanced at the screen of his phone and saw the name of his boyfriend. It had taken him less than twenty minutes to get ready and on his way to the airport. Neymar couldn’t be blamed, though. Fifteen days were too many and Madrid was ridiculously far away when you missed someone. But it was all worth it. The long days of waiting, the waking up at such ungodly hours and the horrific traffic to the airport; everything was worth it when, at the end of it, he had Rafinha in their kitchen, moving lazily around while making breakfast for them.

“Uh… Don’t we have more sugar?”

“It’s on the other cabinet, next to the fridge.”

Neymar followed the figure of his boyfriend bathed in the clear gold-like morning light. It was such a delight to simply have him there, to be able to observe him without a computer or telephone between them.

“Why the new place?” Rafa stretched to get the silver container and Neymar got distracted with the now visible smooth skin of his boyfriend’s back and the sweet curve of his ass. “Ney?” Rafa looked over his shoulder and smirked. “Stop looking at my ass, you jerk.”

“Why should I?” Rafa placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of Neymar and kiss at the top of his head. Neymar took a sip and continued watching Rafa preparing toasts. “It’s the fucking ants. They keep invading the kitchen. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I’m sure they’ll be gone soon when winter comes.”

Rafinha placed the plate with toasts and two jars or marmalade in the table and sat in front of Neymar. They smiled at each other for a while enjoying the fact of them sharing breakfast after so long. It was the closest thing to perfect Neymar could imagine. They stayed in silence for a long time, eating quietly and exchanging long looks that were more meaningful than words. _You’re here. I’m here. I’ve missed you so much. I’ve missed you too._ No matter how talkative they both were, when they were together they liked to share this kind of silence.

When their cups were almost empty Neymar asked Rafinha about his last two weeks. Words fell from his lips full of excitement. Neymar enjoyed seeing Rafinha with his eyes shining while he explained the new piece he was practicing or the class he had been asked to give. In those moments, Neymar was sure he had made the right decision letting Rafinha go to study in Madrid. Some people thought that Neymar was being a fool, but he knew better. He loved Rafinha too much to stop him from having that special light in his eyes. It was hard; Neymar wasn’t trying to deceive anyone. Sometimes it was almost a bit too much. But witnessing how much the postgraduate course made Rafa happy was enough to soothe Neymar’s heart a little. And the fact that they spent the whole day at home every time his boyfriend returned from Madrid helped too.

The situation was not ideal but it was _them_ and Neymar wouldn’t have changed it. He would have never forced Rafinha to make the choice between studying music and being with him. So Rafa made the sacrifice of constantly travelling back and forth from Barcelona to Madrid instead of just moving to the capital city; and Neymar waited for his boyfriend almost up to two weeks each time.

“Oh and I brought some pics from the concert I was in last Wednesday, I know you like the printed ones.” Rafinha grinned at him and then laughed when Neymar’s eyes widened like plates.

“Where are they?” Neymar was already walking to the small living room to look for Rafa’s suitcase.

“In the folder with zippers, I didn’t want them to get wrinkles or anything.”

Less than a minute after Rafa spoke, Neymar was back with the black folder under his arms. He sat next to Rafinha and smiled sweetly at him while opening it and shuffling through the papers. Neymar’s quick fingers promptly found the plastic envelop and retrieved the A4-sized pictures. There were two: one showed the whole little orchestra Rafinha had played with and the other was only of Rafinha in front of his piano. In the second one you could see clearly Rafa’s concentrated yet relaxed expression. Neymar traced the line of his shoulders and his back, recognizing the position he always took when playing in front of an audience.

“You look handsome.” He casted a look at Rafinha and smiled. “As always, though.” Rafinha blushed lightly and dismissed the comment with a movement of his hand.

“I’ll wash these things and we can watch a film or something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Rafinha pecked him on his way to the sink and let Neymar go over the papers in his folder. It was part of their routine. Rafinha kept all his upcoming projects there to keep track of everything and Neymar was already used to check the folder in case Rafinha had forgotten to tell him about a concert or a class he would be taking in another city (which happened way too often).

The comfortable silence of the morning was disrupted by Neymar’s gasp. His eyes scanned the papers in his hand, re-reading the lines over and over to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood something. Rafinha probably found weird that Neymar stayed silent, and focused his attention on him.

“Hey, what is it?” At the lack of answer he walked to his boyfriend and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Ney?”

“You are uhm… Are you accepting this offer?” It was a dumb question. The papers had been in the pocket where Rafinha kept the concerts and events to which he had confirmed his assistance.

“Which one?” Rafinha leaned closer to try to read some lines.

“The one in the Auditorium of the University…” Neymar re-read the schedule and tried to chuckle but the sound got stuck in the lump in his throat. “You’ll have a solo and everything. It’s, uh… wow, it’s amazing.”

“What’s the problem, love?”

Neymar looked at Rafinha with his eyes quickly filling with tears. He tried to bite them back but the expression of complete confusion on Rafa’s face was breaking his heart. He opened his mouth a few times before deciding on his next words.

“February the second? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

Neymar counted three heartbeats before Rafinha realized his mistake.

“Oh fuck.” Rafa’s voice was barely audible. He cleared his throat twice and looked at his feet before speaking again. “It’s your birthday.” Rafinha shook his head and sighed.

Neymar wiped away three tears that were rolling down his cheeks and tried to stop his hands from shaking. He put the papers back in the folder and left it on the table. His arms were quickly folded over his torso. Neymar had the impression he was trying to hold himself together. Meanwhile, Rafinha had stayed quiet and slowly brought himself to his knees. His hands were resting above Neymar’s thigh and his forehead was pressed on them.

“God, I feel ashamed apologising but… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ney.” He looked up and found Neymar’s teary eyes looking back at him. “I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten…” Rafa closed his eyes as if something was hurting him. Neymar didn’t move. He wasn’t even sure if he was actually breathing. When Rafa opened his eyes again, he raised one of his hands and touched Ney’s wet cheek tenderly. “Of course I’m not going, ‘course I’m not.”

He looked determined and shook his head a few times. Neymar felt his heart flutter but the small relief was followed by the heavy guilt.

“But I… I mean, I would understand it, you know. If you don’t… It’s important for you… “

Rafinha shook his head and stood up. He pulled Neymar’s hands until they were on Rafa’s own chair with Neymar on his lap.

“There are plenty of important concerts but you’re my boyfriend, the only one. You’re the most important thing.” He kissed Neymar’s forehead, then the tip of his nose and then the lips that had gone from a pout to a little smile.

“So you’ll be here?”

“Of course I’ll be here, Ney.”

\--

Neymar looked around the living room checking if everything was in order. The first few guests had just arrived and were chatting contently in the kitchen. The catering service had left some thirty minutes before and everything looked great. He had deemed the lights and put some Christmas lights around the room to create a festive atmosphere. There was music playing and the bell started ringing continuously bringing more and more friends each time he opened the door. In less than an hour the house was full of people, the volume of the music had gone louder and the party was finally on.

Neymar flew from one place to another, receiving some gifts and talking here and there with friends from football, university and the bunch of people from his work he actually liked. Every once in a while he bounced back to the corner of the living room where his and Rafa’s closest friends were. Rafinha had introduced Neymar to all of them when he had arrived to Barcelona two years ago. In no time Marc, Sergi, Dani, Geri, Leo and the rest of the group had become his friends too.

“What a party, Ney!” When he reached the group of young men, Gerard handed him a glass with some bright-coloured drink.

“There’s a lot of people, yeah!” He looked around smiling but when he focused back on his friends the smile faltered a little. He took his phone out of his pocket ignoring whatever Leo was telling to the others and glanced at the time.

“Rafa should be on his way here. I don’t want to cut the cake without him.” He casted a look at the kitchen and sighed. “Maybe the traffic’s too bad, it’s Friday after all.”

Neymar didn’t realize he had said the words out loud until he noticed the eyes of his friends fixed on him. He looked at them and something weird twisted in his guts at their worried looks. Neymar tried shrugging his shoulders and laughing. Neither came naturally but he tried to play it cool anyway.

“I’ll be right back. I think I need to bring some drinks from the kitchen.”

Neymar moved between the people dancing in the living room trying not to make eye contact with anyone. He needed a few seconds to compose his spirit. He knew he was probably overreacting. Rafinha had called him some thirty minutes after mid night to wish him happy birthday. His boyfriend sounded exhausted but incredibly happy and Neymar found himself smiling through the lump in his throat while Rafinha told him about the class he had given that day and about the rehearsals. Neymar had to use a lot of willpower not to get angry at Rafinha when he informed him that he was staying to have lunch in Madrid. Some professor from his university had invited him to this posh event full of apparently important people that Neymar didn’t care about. Rafa noticed his anger and assured Neymar that he should not worry. And Neymar did not worry. He trusted Rafa. But it was getting late, and there was not even a phone call from him. Neymar figured he couldn’t be blame for feeling at least anxious.

\--

When the clock neared eleven, Neymar had already rushed to the front door more times than he cared to count (and had fake his disappointment with a friendly smile each time). He had also put his phone in silent mode because he didn’t have the heart to leave it in his room. Instead, he carried the mute device in his pocket while fiercely ignoring the fact that there was not a single message from Rafinha waiting to be read.

By that time, Rafinha’s absence had become incredibly obvious.

Those who knew Ney and Rafa as a couple didn’t dare to ask about him. Neymar not talking about Rafa was a bad enough sign. Had everything been alright, Neymar would have been babbling about it, complaining about his boyfriend with a playful smile and love clear in his eyes. But Neymar was pretending there was no such person as Rafael Alcantara.

Sadly for Neymar, there were people like his friend Santiago from college that had only seen Rafinha once or twice. He didn’t know what the effect of his innocent question would have in Neymar.

“Hey, isn’t your boyfriend around here?”

Neymar only looked at him with tightly pressed lips and shook his head minimally. He breathed in slowly before releasing a short:

“He’s on his way”

He then turned around and went to talk with Leo.

Lionel knew him better than a lot of his friends in Barcelona, and he made a great effort to keep his mind away from the obvious absence of his boyfriend. Yet, Neymar couldn’t forget the fact that he knew Leo thanks to Rafinha. It was a constant reminder that his life there was built around the one person that was missing from his birthday party.

“Ney,” He had stopped listening to Leo and his friend had noticed. The Argentine gave him a sympathetic look that Ney hated instantly. “he’ll come.”

Neymar did not get a chance to answer. Someone from the back of the dining room, probably Bruna, a friend from her job, was calling him while some people went around the room turning off most of the lights. A couple of his friends from college were carrying the chocolate cake he had ordered with two twenty-three-shaped candles lit on top of it.

In no time Neymar was pushed and pulled until he was standing in front of a table, the cake right in front of him and a mass of people surrounding him and singing the “happy birthday” song on different keys.

Neymar looked around faking his best smile. He went over the face of the people who were singing to him, celebrating with him. The people who cared enough to make big or small sacrifices to be there that night. And yet there was someone missing, somewhat the most important one.

He felt Rafinha’s friends’ eyes on him. Neymar could no longer force himself to consider them his friends. Lionel was trying to smile sincerely, Gerard had a straight face and nodded at him when their eyes met, Andrés was singing like nothing strange was happening; only his nervous eyes checking around the room betrayed him. Neymar saw Marc and Sergi, those who had been Rafa’s friends the triple of time they have been a couple. They couldn’t hide their guilt. And Neymar couldn’t hide his pain.

The first tear took him by surprise. The two that came after rolled down his face slowly and made people notice the fact that he was crying. The fourth came with a low sob. Neymar looked at his hands and felt the salty taste in his tongue and the tremors shaking his body.

He was crying in front of everyone he knew. His heart was breaking in the smallest pieces in front of a waiting audience and he didn’t know what to do.

Neymar tried to look around, tried to find some kind of solace in the faces of those who were his friends. His lips parted trying to utter and apologise but no sound came out.

The next thing he knew were the steps of the stairs under his feet and the bathroom door locked behind his back. He could hear the voices of people downstairs probably wondering what they should do now that their host had run away in tears.

“Ney! Neymar please! Open the door! Ney!”

Leo, Geri, Marc, Andres, Sergi, Ivan… How many of his... of _Rafa's_  friends knocked on the door and tried to coaxed him out of the bathroom? He lost the count too soon. In fact, he didn’t even try to keep track of them. He didn’t care about anyone else, because the only person he needed to care about him hadn’t arrived.

Long minutes ran and ran until they completed a painful hour and at some point in between the house felt silent. His guests where gone and Rafa's friends were probably gone too. The realization that he was alone and lying on the cold bathroom floor hit him like punch in the face.

He tracked the last minutes of his birthday on phone. The too bright light of the bathroom hurt his eyes with every blink. He had grown tired of drying his tear streamed face. His hands had went numb and he could not longer feel the tip of his fingers. 

At seven past midnight he closed his eyes and tried to scream. The sound hurt his ears but he didn't want to stop.

At ten past midnight he stood up and carefully ignored his reflexion in the mirror.

At thirteen past midnight he opened the door and somehow gathered the energy to half-decently walk to his room.

 _Their_ room.

He could see bits of Rafinha in every little thing: in the colours of the walls, in the pictures of the night tables, on the shoes lying carelessly in front of the wardrobe. The young Brazilian fell on the bed, the strong smell of his boyfriend hitting his nostrils and bringing new tears to his eyes. 

Neymar was exhausted and aching inside; and the phone in his hand was no longer in silent phone but it still wasn’t ringing.

It was sixteen past midnight and Rafinha was everywhere but there with Neymar.

 

\--

It had to be very early or incredibly late. The lights were off but there the first rays of morning sun were creeping shyly into the room.

Neymar was awoken by the persistent ringing of his phone. He was certain it had been ringing for a good while but he could not bring himself to open his eyes and take it. When he finally did, there were about a dozen missed calls and too many messages to even bother checking them. His phone rang again, and Neymar’s insides twisted painfully.

“What?”

“Neymar” Rafinha was breathless, Neymar couldn’t think exactly why.

“What?”

“Ney, I’m… Sorry, okay? I am very sorry.”

“You are what?”

“Ney, don’t be like this.”

“Don’t be like what? Like you’ve left me stranded on my own birthday party?”

“Neymar, listen. It was…” Excuses seem to be failing to come to Rafa’s lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it.”

“Well,” Neymar closed his eyes tight, trying (and failing) to stop the tears. “I’m sorry too.”


	18. Come Back... Be Here... (Marc Bartra/Thiago Alcantara)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is falling in love in the cruelest way,  
> This is falling for you when you are worlds away."  
> -Come Back... Be Here... 
> 
> Rating: Mature  
> Tags: AU, marc is in university, thiago works in germany, long distance relationship, angst with a happy ending, first same sex relationship for one character, coming out of sorts, sibling relationship, bisexual character(s), lots of crying, lots of kissing, i'm the worst at tagging, but i promise it is nice  
> Words: 9090

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >   
>  Read the lyrics [HERE](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/comebackbehere.html)  
> 
> 
> Guys, I almost died writing this thing. It is long and it is not about a well-known ship but I really hope you like it because I'm very proud of it. As always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated. And hey! Just one more one-shot to got, I'm getting rather emotional over here. Anyway, enjoy your reading!

They are drunk, they are so drunk that Thiago is worried they will tumble down the stairs and break their necks. Yet he can’t quite manage to care. Marc has wrapped his arms around his middle and buried his face on the crook of his neck and suddenly everything in the world has fallen into its rightful place.

“They must be wondering where we are.”

The words came in a barely understandable murmur and Thiago has to make an effort to remember who this _they_ pronoun might refer to. Right, his baby brother Rafinha and his friends; one of whom is hugging him and placing soft tender kisses along the line of his neck. Thiago sighs and lets his body melt to the touch.

“They are all probably asleep now.”

Thiago gets tired of looking at the stars and turns so he can finally face Marc. His eyes are shining so bright that Thiago gets the urge of throwing his telescope away; he doesn’t need to gaze at the night sky anymore.

Their mouths meet for the hundredth time that night, the first awkward fearful kiss long forgotten even if it happened mere hours before.

“I think I love you.”

“Yeah, I think I love you too.”

The words are out of Thiago’s mouth before he can even properly think about them.

“Yeah?” Marc looks at him with the brightest eyes Thiago has ever seen. He can’t remember why he was supposed to regret his words.

“Yeah.” He presses a new kiss to Marc’s lips and holds the younger man tighter while he tries to calm his beating heart.

…

 “You should have told me sooner.”

Thiago is lying with his head on top of Marc’s chest, caressing the smooth pale skin along the side of Marc’s body. The motion stops as soon as he hears Marc speak.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I didn’t mean it like that.” Marc handles Thiago until he can look at his face. The Catalan man is frowning a little. “When… when you said you’d never been with a guy before…” Thiago tenses and closes his eyes. “Hey, relax.” He runs his hand through Thiago’s hair and places it in the back of his neck. “Have you ever _thought_ about liking men before?”

“It doesn’t- I just… I mean, does it matter?”

Marc shrugs, aware of how scared Thiago sounds. He kisses him tenderly and shifts them until Thiago’s back is pressed to the mattress and he can observe every feature of his face.

“It doesn’t change anything of _this.”_ He kisses him again slowly and tenderly, it feels like he is making a point. “But I wanted to know.” Thiago surprises him with an airy laughter.

“You know so much already.” Tanned hands fly to frame Marc’s face. His thumbs carefully trace Marc’s cheekbones and then bring him closer so he can kiss him.

Marc gives in and deduces the answer. They kissed until their mouths go quite numb and then they cuddle while the first rays of sunshine start to sip into Thiago’s room.

“You are leaving.”

Marc only presses a kiss to the top of Thiago’s head and takes his mobile from the night table. Four hours until the plane takes off, three until the time they are expected to get to the airport, and two until everyone wakes up in the other bedrooms. Marc lets the device fall to the floor and cuddles closer to Thiago’s body, trying to absorb the warmth of his body between his arms. He memorizes the feeling of their breaths colliding and their skins pressed together.

…

Thiago bites his lower lip when Marc approaches him with a knowing smirk that can’t quite hide the shade of sadness in his green eyes. Thiago notices how handsome he looks in the clear morning light with his backpack hanging from one shoulder and his passport and plane tickets in one hand. Something twists on his chest but he fearlessly puts up on a smile for him.

“Flight’s on time.”

“Damn the nice weather.”

They start giggling despite the sadness gripping their hearts. Marc places a tentative hand on Thiago’s upper arm and checks if anyone is watching.

“I don’t really want to go…”

Thiago smiles, the tips of his lips refusing a little to form the gesture. He looks around and quickly throws himself in Marc’s arms, kissing him briefly on the lips and then burying himself in a tight hug. Marc seems surprised by both actions but instinctively wraps his arms around Thiago’s shoulders, bringing him closer.

“Come back.”

Thiago breaks the hug with eyes filled with tears and watches as Marc joins his friends to take their plane back to Barcelona.

…

“Hey”

Marc traces Thiago’s warm smile over the cold, flat screen of his laptop. He sighs. The day had been too long. They smile at each other.

“I miss you”

Marc closes his eyes and breathes in slowly. It hurts. He misses him too. But he doesn’t need another cry fest. He needs soft, smiley Thiago telling him stories of his friends or the crazy cold weather of Germany. He wants to close his eyes and get lost in Thiago’s voice.

“Thiago…”

“I’m sorry, I know. I just… never mind. How was your day?”

Marc carefully observes Thiago’s expression. He is smiling but there is sadness behind his eyes. His fingers linger once more over the screen, desperately wishing he could touch tanned skin instead.

“Boring, but what’s new?” Suddenly Marc doesn’t want to burden Thiago with the odyssey that had been his day at university. The laughter comes surprisingly easy for him, and relief washes over him as Thiago joins him.

“And what about your essay?”

“Oh you don’t want to hear about it.”

“What happened?”

Thiago has dinner ridiculously early, in Marc’s opinion. He usually is already working on the stuff he takes home when Marc arrives from his job and they can finally Skype. This night is not different from the others. Marc takes his computer with him while prepares a sandwich and then back to the table of the kitchen all while talking with Thiago.

“I printed the wrong one, you know? I was lucky I’d brought my laptop with me. I showed Mr. Lucho the essay on my computer, to prove that I wasn’t bullshitting or something.” He pauses just a second to enjoy Thiago quiet laughter and continues: “anyway, I was sure that he won’t have it. But I guess he actually likes me because he let me to go and print it.”

“You’re a lucky bastard” teases Thiago with a playful smile before he yawns.

They stay in silence. Marc leaves the computer on the table he does the few dishes to prevent any incident that could damage the device.  Thiago starts speaking without prompting while Marc dries the last glass and sits again in front of the computer.

“Lucky you weren’t with me today. I’ve never seen so many angry men in suits yelling about numbers.”

“Right” realization downs in Marc and he feels the colour creeping to his cheeks, “your important meeting.” Marc offers a small smile as an apology for not asking about it sooner. Either way, he knows Thiago is not really offended. “Did it go well? Apart from the yelling, I mean.”

“Yeah, they reached an agreement. God’s know how…”

Thiago recounts the meeting in terms Marc can understand while the Catalan man goes to the bathroom and gets ready to go to bed. Thiago has told him several times that he already knows Marc’s apartment by heart, which was funny given that he’d never actually been to the place.

When Marc finally gets to his bed, the tone of the conversation changes. Excited hands touch the skin where they wished to feel the others’. Their breaths become erratic but somehow coordinated despite the kilometres of distance. Pleasure runs wild and electric through their bodies and Marc closes his eyes to imagine that he’s pressed against Thiago’s body and not the damp sheets.  Skype sex has never been Marc’s favourite, but it is what they have. Somehow, Marc finds it more enjoyable now that it is Thiago on the other side of the screen.

“God, I swear I can’t go on much like this. I need you, Marc.”

Clear green eyes meet brown ones through the screen. Marc smiles and then lets out a sigh, arranging himself on his bed and placing the computer on top of his chest.

They _were physically_ together only once, for five days, one month ago. That concept doesn’t quite add up with the desperate need, the tight bond he feels for this man. He looks at Thiago and his skin aches for not having him in his arms.

“I wish you could come here. Study and get your degree and work here and just… be with me.”

Marc smiles. He has thought about it many times now. It is too soon yet.

_Someday._

He can’t help imagining that day. Yet, there are more things they have to do before Marc’s crazy fantasies can come true.

 “Have you thought about what we spoke yesterday?” He waits for Thiago’s answer with attentive eyes.

“Yeah… I think I’ll speak with him soon.”

“Whenever you feel ready.” He wants to be sure that he is not rushing Thiago to do anything he doesn’t want to. The storm of happy feelings inside him is sometimes stronger than his will.

“I know, don’t worry.” Thiago yawns and blinks a few times trying to keep himself awake. Marc smiled fondly at him, a warm feeling twirling in his stomach.

“Okay, I love you but you really need to sleep now.” It is not the first time he's said he loves Thiago since that first drunk confession, yet it still feels special. A soft blush creeps to his cheeks and he can hear Thiago giggling.

“It’s so nice to hear you saying it sober.”

“Shut up.”

“I love you too.”

…

Marc is sitting by himself during lunch which is in itself a strange happening. His food rests barely touched on the wooden table and that is definitely odd. That’s why Marc is not surprised when Rafa takes a sit next to him with a badly disguised look of concern.

“Hey” Marc weak greeting only serves to deepen the worried gesture on the Brazilian’s face.

“Hi. Something bad with your food?”

Rafa makes a vague gesture to the plate with the forgotten piece of chicken and fries. Marc seems confused for a moment. He follows Rafa’s hand and makes a dismissing sound before he pushes the plate to make room for his arms. Rafa watches as the Catalan man places his head on top of his arms and sighs, his phone clutched tightly on his right hand.

“Okay, now. Tell me what’s up?” Marc has closed his eyes and Rafa starts getting impatient. “Come on, Marc! I’m your friend!” Rafa pushes him slightly but gets no reply. He stays silent for a few seconds, probably thinking and finally speaks again with a soft voice: “Is it about Melissa?”

Marc opens his eyes and for a moment looks at Rafa like he has gone crazy. Then he sits straight and lets out a small laughter. Rafa starts to look _really_ concerned for his mental health and that just prompts Marc to laugh a bit more, lifting some of the weight he’d been carrying around that morning.

“I had, I hadn’t thought about her in so long. My God… No.” He looks quite amused at the idea and Rafa prompts him to elaborate on why it is so funny, barely keeping the annoyance out of his face. “I just, we broke it off definitely like a month before we went to Germany. No, no. It’s not about her.”

“About who, then?” Rafa pushes him teasingly and Marc can’t help but laughing with his friend.

In a quick train of thought Marc decides to tell Rafa about his feelings, avoiding the detail that they are directed at his brother.

“I met him a while back…” Rafa only nods and Marc smirks in the middle of his explanation. He loves to remember how they didn’t need to come out to each other; it had been something new and refreshing for Marc. He is still thankful for it. “And we are like, going out. It is nothing like, official. But I like him a whole lot.” A dumb smile turns the tip of his lips up. Marc can feel himself blushing and confirms he looks quite pathetic when Rafa displays a joking smirk.

“You’re fucking head over heels for him, oh my God.”

“Well…” What is the use of fighting it? Marc lets a breath out.  “Hell, yeah. I adore him.”

Rafa seems to think something for a while without losing his smile.

“Can’t I have a name?”

Marc has a small panic attack and then starts laughing, because it is the best thing he can do to gain some time. Thankfully, Rafa laughs with him.

“Not yet.” Rafa gives him a questioning look. “Don’t look at me like that. I just want to make sure it’s going to last.”

“Why wouldn’t it? He likes you, right? And you’re obviously really gone for him so…”

“It is long distance, for starters.” Marc interrupts him. “He doesn’t live in Barcelona, not anymore.”

“Oh.” Rafa falls silent and starts playing with a pen that he takes out of his backpack. Right when he’s about to say something Marc speaks again.

“And…” He closes his eyes a second. “He wasn’t… Like. Well, fuck. He hadn’t been with a guy before me. He didn’t think he liked guys. Like, at all.” Understanding downs on Rafinha and he smiles sympathetically to his friend. “So I don’t want to rush things. I’ll wait until I’m sure this is what he wants and then we’ll figure out the rest, I guess.”

Marc ends his sentence in a noticeable sad tone. He picks one of the already cold fries and drops it on his mouth while Rafa thinks.

“So you turned this guy gay, impressive.”

“Rafa…” Marc tries to sound reproaching but there’s an evident smile behind his voice.

“I’m just thinking…”

“You’ve taken the role of the love guru seriously, haven’t you?”

Rafa smiles and decides to let Marc change the topic just so he smiles again a little.

“Well, yeah. Marc and I are the _relationship goals_ of this whole city.” They both laugh loudly at that and Rafa continues with an even bigger smile. “Of course I’m going to give people advice so they can be as happy as us.”

“You’re so full of yourself.” Mar throws two fries at Rafinha which prompts a small war of fries that ends with the plate half empty and its salty content spread out on the floor.

“Okay but, talking seriously. Has he like… tell you something to make you feel he doesn’t want to be with you because you’re a guy?” Rafinha switches to the calm and careful tone Marc knows he uses when he wants to be serious.

“No, no. On the contrary, to be honest.” Marc blushes remembering something and smiles at Rafa. “He says I make him happy.”

“And he makes you quite happy too, hm?” Rafa smiles. He grabs his friend’s shoulder affectionately and squeezes a bit. “I don’t think you have much to worry about, to be honest.”

“I know.” 

They keep on talking about some more mundane things, mostly because Rafa wants to make sure his friends is feeling better. When the time comes for them both to go back to classes they pack their things and before leaving, Rafa holds Marc’s arm.

“Aren’t you seriously going to tell me the name?” He is using his best charming smile because he knows it is effective with his friend. However, Marc just laughs loudly on his face.

“Chill. I’ll promise I’ll tell you someday.” Marc starts walking with Rafa following him like a puppy.

“Seriously? After all the years of our friendship? After my thoughtful advice?

“Someday.”

…

“Okay, spill the beans.”

“Hi Rafa, dear brother. Yes, I miss you too. My week has been fine, what about yours?”

“Cut it. I want you to tell me what’s up with Marc.”

“Marc Bartra?” He tried to fake confusion but knew instantly that his brother wasn’t fooled.

“Of course I’m talking about Marc Bartra, you jerk. Don’t play dumb.” There is a tense silence. “He’s got a new boyfriend.”

“And why do you think that has to do anything with me?” Thiago closes his eyes, his voice wavered in all the wrong places and he’s a hundred percent sure his brother knows what’s up.

“He started acting weird after we visited you. And soon after he told me he had a new boyfriend. Long distance relationship. Someone who hadn’t been with a guy before.  And he wouldn’t tell me his name. Not even now that they’ve apparently been together for a while, you know?”

“I still don’t know…”

“He’s downloaded Duolingo to his phone, Thiago. He’s learning German.”

Thiago has to suppress the tidal wave of emotion that comes down on him. His Marc is learning German. He tries to control his excitement, his rapidly growing expectations. Surely it doesn’t  have to mean Marc is planning moving to Germany with him, right?

“Thiago? You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Probably he’ll start babbling about how much he needed Marc there, with him. Maybe he should.

“Okay, right. I know you’re seeing someone too. Javi texted me the other day to check if I knew something. Whoever it is, you’re hiding it.” Thiago could hear the frown on Rafa’s voice. “And that’s unlike you, Thi. So please, tell me what the hell is going on?”

“There’s nothing going on.” It's his last attempt, Thiago doesn’t know quite well why he is resisting so much but he feels he has to try.

“Thiago…”

Long silence and then:

“Okay.. . I, well…” And just having the certainty that he is going to tell his brother about Marc lifted a huge weigh from his chest. Before he can notice it Thiago is laughing. “We are together.”

“I knew it!” The concern is completely out of his brother’s voice. Thiago notices how his shoulders relax. He laughs again. “But don’t shut up now! Speak!”

 “What else do you want me to tell you!?” Thiago is barely aware that they are almost screaming and that it is too late. Both their neighbours will hate them. Hell, his brother’s boyfriend might be hating them right now.

“I don’t know, how the hell did it happen? Have you seen each other since the trip?”

Thiago blushes and thanks every God he can think of because he brother can’t see him.

“We did, yeah. Some weeks ago.”

“Oh, Marc didn’t go to Ney’s party a few weeks back. He told us he was studying… You bastards!” Rafa is laughing again, apparently utterly amused by the situation. “And what else?”

“Rafa what the fuck?”

“Sorry, but my brother is dating one of my best friends. I want to know how it happened.” Rafa fell silent suddenly. He seemed to think about something and Thiago heard his breath when he tried to speak twice before actually doing it: “You’re alright with this?”

“What do you mean?” Thiago is still high on the previous excitement and slightly out of breath from all the laughing.

“You are dating a guy. I mean, I know you did not have a problem with gay people” Rafa holds his breath just a fraction of second and Thiago remembers his brother teen years. He remembered how scared 15-year-old Rafinha was of telling him he was gay. Thiago knew exactly what his brother is trying to do. He feels his heart full of love for his brother and wishes he could hold him tight. “but _being_ gay is different. I don’t, I mean.” Rafa breathes in and out slowly. “This is stupid, sorry.” They both chuckle. “I just want to know if you’re alright.”

“I am. Rafa, he makes me so stupidly happy. I swear I didn’t stop to think he was guy. When I saw him I just…” Thiago stops and starts laughing. “I sound so in love, this is embarrassing”

“It’s kinda cute, though.” And after that Rafa explodes in laughter and Thiago is quickly joining him. “Shit, I wish I had recorded that bit. It would have been lovely for your wedding.”

Oddly enough, Thiago doesn’t feel like correcting his brother, telling him there wouldn’t be a wedding any time soon. Hell, he’s overwhelmed by how much he’s actually liked for it to be true.

“Oh god, you do love him so much.”

“I do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Rafa sounds just a little bit hurt. Thiago feels guilty anyway.

“I’m sorry. It was not personal. We just were finding our way around each other, you know? And Marc was so concerned about me. I think he was afraid I would turn him down any day.” Thiago smiles at the absurdity of that thought. “And you know, long distance is shit. Neither of us knew if we were going to make it. We just decided to wait.”

“Four fucking months”

“Four fucking months.”

“So you didn’t got together during Germany?”

“Yes and no. I properly asked Marc about a month after that. He cried a lot, by the way.”

“That sounds like, Marc. And what about you?” Rafa teasing tone tells Thiago he knows he cried a lot too. His silence is just the confirmation. “Gotcha!”

They speak and speak until Thiago feels his eyelids heavy and can’t finish a phrase without yawning twice. They bid each other goodbye and as soon as they hang up Thiago took his phone but there are already two messages waiting for him.

_Marc: U spoke with rafa! He’s happy for us. Wants to kill me bc we didn’t told him sooner._

_Marc: I love you_

_Thiago: love you more_

…

“Congrats!”

Marc’s tired face is smiling at him from his phone. From Barcelona, Marc watches Thiago settle in a table outside a café. The phone is left in the table for a few seconds showing a glimpse of the pale blue sky. The winter is slowly letting spring take place of the European cities and both Barcelona and Munich are beginning to bloom.

“Thank you, love. I’m so exhausted, though. I think I’m going home and sleeping for two days.”

“Not partying?”

Marc frowns. Shakes his head and opens his mouth once before actually speaking.

“Don’t really feel like it.”

“You could go to the place you took me. It was nice.”

Thiago smiles and remembers their first and second meeting after the trip where they’d met. The feel of Marc’s lips against his for the first time in so long had felt like a shot of oxygen when he was about to asphyxiate.

“Yeah well, you know clubbing is not my favourite activity,” Marc’s nose is scrunched and Thiago feels himself melting because his boyfriend is just too cute.

“Come on, tell Rafa to take you out. Or Rergi, or any of the guys. You have to celebrate!”

He doesn’t like when Marc stays in too long. He has checked with Rafa, just to make sure if he was always like this or if it was some kind of side effect of them being in a long distance relationships. The consensus had been that Marc wasn’t the biggest fan of parties but that he was more reluctant now than before meeting Thiago.

“I would love to celebrate but…” There a small pause and Thiago knows what’s coming. “…with _you._ ”

 “Oh no, stop there you two. I don’t want anyone crying.” Javi takes a sit in the chair opposite to Thiago. His friend’s comment inevitable draws a laugh from him and it works the same effect on Marc.

“Shut up!” Still laughing, Thiago attempts to kick his friend under the table. He misses his attempt and soon his own leg is hurting from Javi’s hit. Javier is laughing loudly with his held tilt back and Thiago kind of regrets having chosen him as his best friend.

“I didn’t know you were with Javi! Let me say hi!” Comes Marc'

Thiago reluctantly picks up his phone and switches to the front camera to show Javi’s smiling face to his boyfriend.

“There you have my asshole of a best friend.” Introduces Thiago with pain still laced to his words.

“Oh, give me that!” Javi snatches the phone from Thiago’s hand and switches it back to the front camera. Thiago can clearly hear Marc laughing on the other side and mentally regrets ever being excited for his boyfriend and best friend getting along. “How are things over there, man?”

“Good, this exam was a pain but I’m good now, just tired. You guys? Thiago told me you had a lot of work.”

Javi shrugs, sips a bit of his coffee and smiles.

“’s not too bad” Then Javier apparently gets an idea and Thiago can tell by the way his lips curved into a smile that it is not going to be good for him. “Shit Marc, this is great! Please, tell Thiago you won’t get mad if he goes with me to this party.” He throws a mocking smile at Thiago and then focuses back on the small face on the phone. “There’s an amazing DJ coming from Iceland. She’s amazing! But Thiago says you wouldn’t like him going with.”

“You asshole!”

Marc is at first a bit confused because he has never had a problem with Thiago hanging out and going to parties. He trusts him and Thiago knows it. After a few seconds he deduces that maybe Thiago doesn’t want to go. But Javi looks quite excited and Marc still has to take revenge because Thiago stole his favourite jersey when he visited a few weeks back.

“It _does_ sound like a great opportunity…” Marc fakes to be considering his options. “Okay, good. Take Thiago to the party, you guys will probably have a blast.” He finishes with a grin and he is sure Javi knows what has been up the whole time and what has Marc done.

“Yes!”

“Oh, fuck you both.”

Thiago takes the phone from Javi’s hands still trying to appear offended but his best friend and his boyfriend are coming undone laughing and he just can’t resist join them.

…

 Marc and Sergi are working on their notes for an exam in Sergi’s place. Marc’s phone starts ringing with Thiago’s alert and Sergi smiles mockingly at his friend.

“Boyfriend’s calling” He announces as if it was necessary when Marc doesn’t immediately pick up.

“I know, I know. I just wanted…” He finishes writing something and picks up the phone. “…to finish that sentence. That’s it. Hey, love!”

“I have good news!”

“Oh?” A smile spreads instantly over Marc’s lips. Sergi is looking at him with curious eyes. Marc makes a gesture with his hand trying to make his friend focus on his own business. Sergi laughs openly at him.

“I’ll be around Barcelona next week!”

“Yeah!?” Marc is about to scream of pure joy but he remembers something. “When will you be here?” He tries to keep the excited tone but instantly notices he fails.

“Friday afternoon. I will leave Sunday on the last plane.”

“Oh…”

“I know it’s just a couple of days but it’s been almost two months since the last time we met and…”

“No, it’s not that. I…” Marc sighs. This will not be nice. “I won’t be here in Barcelona.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s Muni’s wedding. Remember? In England. We’re all going…”

“Rafa’s not going.  I already talked with him.” Thiago’s suspicious tone hurts Marc. “Isn’t he a part of the group also?”

“Yeah but not… Not in the same way as Sergi and I, we are all childhood friends, and besides…” Marc notices the careful look Sergi is giving him from the other side of the table and sighs. “It’s important, love. I’m dying to see you but I can’t let Muni down. It’s his _wedding._ ”

“Marc, we see each other once each month if we are lucky. Can’t you, I don’t know, apologize to him? I can’t believe you’re not…”

“Thiago, I love you and I’m dying to see you but I _can’t,_ you know I can’t.”

“Rafa is staying…”

“Mats has this huge weird exam Saturday morning! Rafa is keeping him company!”

“So he can stay for his boyfriend but you can’t.”

“Don’t be like that. It’s different…”

“Why is it different? Because they live together and we only see each other once a month?”

“You know, Thiago, you _must_ know I didn’t mean that.”

Thiago seems to be about to throw a fist of anger but then calms down. He breathes in slowly and when he speaks again his voice is wavering and broken.

“I miss you.”

Marc closes his eyes. He starts to feel some tears gathering in his eyes. A comforting hand appears on his shoulder and he smiles at his best friend. Sergi squeezes his shoulder and waits. He tries to breath past the knot on his throat.

“I miss you too, okay? But I have to be in Muni’s wedding, he’s one of my best friends.”

“But…”

“We are leaving Friday after lunch. The wedding is on Saturday night. We already have our tickets for Sunday afternoon but I’ll see if…”

“If you can come kiss me goodbye? Is that all?”

“ _Thiago please…_ ”

“You know what? Don’t worry.” Marc listens to Thiago moving around his home, probably looking for something to distract him as soon as he hangs up. “I’ll go anyway. Ticket’s booked, Rafa’s already planned something. I don’t, I don’t care. Hope you enjoy the wedding.”

“Thiago don’t be like that, please…”

The line is dead before Marc knows exactly what he wants to tell him. He throws the phone over the table and covers his face with both hands. Sergi hugs him tight and it’s only because of the years building trust in each other that he allows himself to start crying.

…

Staying at his little brother’s apartment isn’t as terrible as Thiago has imagined. The flat is little but it is also constantly full of light, and there is a spare bedroom with a bed that becomes his for that weekend. If staying there weren’t his plan B because his boyfriend dumped him, he would have felt almost at home.

“Can you maybe, possibly relax and smile?”

Rafa is on the floor, reading some textbooks and taking messy notes of them.  Thiago has been staring blankly at his brother from the sofa, completely ignoring the tennis match on the TV. When Thiago realizes his brother has spoken to him, he just shrugs and closes his eyes.

“Why would I?”

Rafa shakes his head and goes back to his notes. He writes for several minutes and Thiago assumes his brother simply gave up on arguing with him. He takes the remote from the coffee table and starts looking for something to watch. Nothing interests him, not even a re-run of ‘Friends’, and finally he gets tired and lets the remote fall to the floor. Some woman is preparing a dish with a lot of vegetables, smiling and speaking softly from the TV. And then Thiago hears his brother’s inquisitive voice again:

“Thiago” There’s a faint tone of concern and he manages to feel a little bit guilty. “You don’t like cooking programs.”

“So what?” It comes out more aggressive than he planned it and he can see Rafa flinch at his words. _Well, fuck._

“What’s wrong with you?” Rafinha is looking at him with honest worry and just a shade of anger. Thiago feels unjustly attacked. He is not the one that has done something wrong, isn’t he?

“What’s wrong with _me_?”

Thiago is about to start ranting about Marc but Rafa waves a dismissing hand at him and takes a sit next to him on the sofa.

“I mean, I know. Marc’s not here, it’s a shitty situation. I get it. I also kind of understood that you were mad at him. But you guys have not spoken for a fucking _week._ D’you know how _depressing_ Marc’s been?”

Thiago lets himself slide on the sofa and crosses his arms over his chest. He stays quiet. The woman on the TV is taking a tray full of food from the oven.

“I’m not the one that’s not here, you know?”

“Can you get over yourself!?” He is startled by Rafa’s outburst. He surely wasn’t expecting his brother to be angry at him. “It is Muni’s wedding! Him, Marc and Sergi have been friend since they were four! And just so you know it: he and Sara don’t have much money. Marc can’t just tell them ‘well hey, never mind you paid for my food and everything tonight, I’m not going.’”

“But…” He closes his mouth and tries to swallow his anger. It doesn’t take much until his sadness replaces it. “I miss him.”

“You’ve also been a right asshole to him.”

Thiago runs his hands over his face and sighs. His body doesn’t cope well with exhaustion and being this sad is quickly draining his energy. Thiago feels his eyes starting to itch and the knot forming on his throat.

“Fuck, I know. But I don’t know why… Rafa, I love him. So damn much. I, it drives me crazy. I want to be able to hug him whenever the hell I want, and to kiss him and just… taking him on dates. Proper actual dates where we are both in the same country, in the same café…” Thiago chuckles; he remembers people looking at him like crazy because he was speaking to his phone’s screen while having dinner in a restaurant. Some tears threaten to fall down his cheeks and he wipes them quickly away.

Rafa squeezes his shoulder trying to soothe him.

“It’s okay to feel sad, Thi.” His brother hugs him to his side tightly, pressing his lips to the top of his head.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

The darkest and truest fear opens the door and soon enough Thiago is crying in earnest, all the sadness and worry and anger pouring out of him in thick salty tears. Rafa just holds him.

Thiago becomes painfully, almost unbearably aware that maybe he fucked his relationship with Marc, but he is too deep down on his misery to properly think of a way to solve it.

…

Thiago has to thank God for his brother’s choice of boyfriend.

Marc-André wakes up from his long post-exam nap when Thiago has almost regained his calm after crying hugged to Rafinha. The German man wastes no time, takes them all to the kitchen and prepares some fancy dish while telling Thiago embarrassing stories about Rafa. So they have dinner and order some ice-cream and by 2AM Thiago has managed to let his mind not wonder too often about Marc and is able to laugh at Rafa and Mats’ anecdotes.

 “Thank you.” He mumbles with his eyes fixed on the golden beer filling his glass. The small silence that follows his words prompts him to look at Marc and Rafa. They are sharing a _look_ , having this kind of mute conversation you mostly see on the movies. Thiago can’t help rolling his eyes.

Finally, it is Marc the one who laughs and tilts his own glass full of beer in Thiago’s direction.

“Thanks to you for bringing some actual German beer.”

Thiago smiles despite himself and they touch their glasses with a soft ‘clink’ under Rafinha’s amused look. All three of them take a long sip and continue talking, some of the tension apparently leaving Thiago’s body.

The doorbell rings and all three men fall silent.

Marc-André is the first one to react. He stands up and walks to the door with slow movements. Thiago can’t resist imagining a thousand tragic scenarios that go from basic robbery to a terrorist cell forcing them to give them shelter. Marc opens the door wide enough to peek outside and barks a loud laughter once he sees who the late visitor is. Rafa and Thiago look at each other in confusion.

“What are you doing here!? You are mad, man. Come in.”

Marc Bartra walks into the kitchen with a shy smile, pale skin and noticeable bags under his eyes. He is still wearing his black suit from the wedding and a travelling bag is hanging from his shoulder.

When he sees him, Thiago freezes in his place and he is almost sure his heart stops beating too.

“Hey.” Marc’s voice is tentative and his eyes are fixed on Thiago’s face.

Thiago’s body moves on its own accord and even if he doesn’t remember making the decision, he stands up and walks until he is folding his arms around Marc’s torso. Soon enough he becomes conscious of the strong smell of Marc’s cologne on his nostrils and Marc’s familiar and secure hands caressing his spine.

  _Marc is here._

“I’m sorry.” Thiago says pushing himself apart from Marc’s body and cupping his face. Thick tears are falling down his cheeks but he remains unaware to the moment he started crying. His whole mind is only capable of processing the fact that Marc is _there_ , with him.

“You’re here” He says because he can’t still believe. Marc in Barcelona, in his arms, with him. “I’m sorry, I really am,” he adds.

Marc’s eyes are filled with tears. Some of them start to silently roll down his face. Thiago brushes some of them and kisses the wet skin. He looks Marc in the eye and gets the smallest of nods as confirmation. He kisses him deeply. Neither of them registers Rafa and Marc-André quietly leaving the room.

Marc throws his bag carelessly to the floor and envelopes Thiago with his free arms, bringing him as close to his body as possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Thiago starts again, peppering Marc’s neck with kisses. His mind is stuck between _I’m sorry_ and _you’re here_ , so he keeps apologizing and pressing his lips to the tender pale skin.

“Hey, Thiago. Here.” Marc presses their lips together and Thiago gets the hint he should calm down a little.  Marc cups his face with both hands and tilts his head down a little to look him in the eye. Thiago’s legs go weak. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I know” He takes his face in both hands too, and tries to get lost in those wonderful shinning green eyes. He can’t help the guilt creeping to his heart. “What are you doing here? What happened with the wedding?”

Marc kisses him sweetly.

“Muni and Sara were beautiful and so was the ceremony. They must be dancing and drinking their ass off right now.” Marc smiles, eyes slightly out of focus and lost in a memory. He focuses back on Thiago when he asks:

“And what about you?”

“Watched them say ‘I do’, hugged them goodbye and took the next plane here.” To Thiago’s relief, the smile doesn’t fall from his lips. On the contrary, Marc hugs him tighter and kisses his cheek. “I had to wait like two hours in the airport, but I’m here. With you.” He touches Marc’s nose with his. “It was worth it.”

“You didn’t have to do it.” Thiago swallows and closes his eyes. He wants Marc to know it; to know he wouldn’t love him any less if he’d stayed in England. “I mean, I’m so glad you are here. I…” He traces Marc’s face with both hands and kisses him again. “I’m sorry if I made you feel you had to come here, that I would stay… mad at you if you didn’t. I just, just miss you like crazy but I know it was important for you and…”

“Thiago.” Marc’s voice is calm and he kisses Thiago sweetly before speaking again: “I didn’t take that plane to hear you saying ‘sorry’ over and over again.” He chuckles a little and shakes his head.

“Okay”

“But,” his face adopts a more serious gesture, “we _will_ talk about you ignoring me a whole week, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m s…”

“Shh, not now.” Marc kisses him again and traces with his lips the way to his ear. He bites the sensitive earlobe and then whispers: “Let’s go to bed, I need you to fuck me.”

“Fuck, Marc. My brother and Mats…” He can barely hold back a groan when Marc bites his neck, hands quickly making their way below his cotton shirt.

“They won’t mind, and I _need_ you.”

While Thiago is thrusting into Marc’s body, the delicious friction bringing him closer to the edge every second, he thinks that he never wants to miss this anymore. He becomes unbearably conscious that he doesn’t want to wake up to a cold bed and have to call Marc to listen to his voice; that voice that spills from his lips pleading for more.

\--

Thiago puts the different bottles of cleaning products back on their closet and looks around the apartment. The night before Javier came over to play FIFA and teased Thiago endlessly for the filthy state of his home. As a result, Thiago is now cleaning floors and washing clothes like his life depended on it. His friend was right: the state of his apartment has been deplorable.

Looking around his kitchen, he decides to wash some dirty laundry before having lunch and heading to work. On his way to his room he checks the time and smiles because Marc should be expecting his call by now. Thiago dials and leaves the phone on loudspeaker while he starts charging the washer.

“Hey?”

Marc sounds a little out of breath. Thiago immediately has the impression he is walking. He does the numbers and feels confident that by that time, Marc should already be at his work. He frowns a little.

“Marc?”

“Yes, love, what happened?”

“I always call you around this time?” Thiago chuckles a little while he keeps placing dirty laundry on the washer.

“Yeah, I know.” By the background noises he feels certain Marc is outside in the city. “Oh fuck. Where is… Oh, good.”

 “Is something wrong?”

“What? No!”

Marc answers too quickly and Thiago’s frown deepens. He closes the washing machine’s door and picks up the phone. With the device pressed to his ear he has no doubt Marc is not in the office where he’d been working part time for the past two weeks.

“Are you walking?”

“I might be.”

Thiago knows by the tone on Marc’s voice that he is hiding a joke behind that statement but he can’t quite manage to guess the punch line.

“Marc what’s happening?”

“Nothing. How’s the cleaning going?”

“I’m just finishing with the dirty laundry but the kitchen is still a mess.” _And I notice you changing the topic, you’re not being subtle_ he wants to add but bites back the words. He is not a jealous boyfriend and Marc has never given him a chance not to trust him.

Yet, after a few minutes of small talk, Marc still hasn’t told Thiago where he is going and the older man can’t help but feeling at least curious.

“Marc, can you tell me what’s going on?” He tries to be sweet and avoid giving his words any accusatory undertone.

“Why would be something special going on?”

“We’ve been talking for almost ten minutes and you’re clearly walking somewhere, but you haven’t told me where? I don’t know.” He tries to keep the anger out of his voice. “It sounds like you are hiding something from me.”

“Oh, calm down, you won’t finish cleaning your apartment if you keep complaining about me.”

“Marc, I don’t know if this is funny, really.”

“It is not meant to be particularly funny, to be honest. But it has to do with something that I think you may like.”

“And why do you sound like you are hiding this big secret?”

“Maybe I am.”

And just like that Marc hangs up, and Thiago is left looking at his phone with a puzzled expression. He doesn’t know what is going on but it doesn’t give him a good feeling. He goes to the kitchen and recklessly places some stuff in the dishwasher. He wanders around the apartment looking for things that wouldn’t take too long to clean or put in order. The conversation with Rafa has drained all his energy.

Finally, he decides it will be more useful to head to work, maybe grab a coffee on his way and probably text Rafa about Marc. See if his brother knows something about what Marc might be doing.

With a knot in his stomach that he is not very sure where it came from, he collects his computer and a few folders with papers, stashes everything in his briefcase and starts looking around for his car keys.

His phone starts ringing forgotten in the coffee table. Thiago runs to the sitting room and picks it up just in time.

“Marc.”

“Wow, you sound pissed.”

“And you too amused.” He takes a deep breath and tries to moderate his irritation. He still doesn’t know if there is a reason to be angry.

“Come on, don’t be mad!”

“I’m not mad, I’m confused.”

“Okay, calm down. May I explain?”

“Please do.” Thiago marginally notices that the background noise of Marc’s call has changed. He is not in the streets anymore. He can’t decide if that is a good or a bad thing.

“Okay, but not on the phone.”

Something twists painfully inside Thiago. Why can’t it be on the phone? His mind immediately convinces himself that Marc is about to break up with him. He closes his eyes tightly.

“Marc, I… I can’t Skype right now. I’m heading to work, I’m sure you can tell me here…”

“But I want to explain it to you. Face to face.” Thiago’s stomach definitely drops to the floor. His eyes start stinging anticipating the tears.

“Whatever… whatever you want to tell me, you can say it on the phone, Marc. I won’t wait a month to see you for you to tell me…”

“A month?”

“Yeah, I won’t be able to go to Barcelona until we finish the project and…”

“And who the hell spoke about Barcelona?”

The implication of Marc’s words is obvious; Thiago knows exactly what he is supposed to understand by that sentence mixed with the tone he used to say it. And yet Thiago can’t make himself believe so. Believing implies placing his hopes too high and risking a really hard, almost lethal fall. And yet, Marc just said…

“What the hell did you mean by that? Marc, please don’t mess like this w…”

Someone knocks on the door of his apartment and Thiago’s voice gets stuck in his throat. His heart is beating wildly to the point it may bruise his chest from the inside.

“Won’t you open the door?”

Thiago throws away his phone without even ending the call. He runs to the front door and yanks it open only to suddenly stay still, boneless and breathless in front of his boyfriend. Marc is smiling at him like a little kid whose prank fooled everyone. His boyfriend, who should be working in Barcelona, is standing at his door with a small case next to him and clear green eyes already getting bright with tears.

“Surprise” He opens his arms, waiting for a hug, and offers him his sweetest smile. But Thiago is just too shocked. There are so many reasons that should have made impossible for Marc to be there: his recent work, his studies and his economic situation being some of them. Thiago shakes his head slowly, eyes widening by the second.

“What are you doing here?”

“What?” Marc lowers his arms, hugging his torso protectively instead. His gaze drifts to the floor. “Are you not excited to see me?”

 _Excited?_  Thiago is ecstatic, elated, so much so that he can’t properly work yet. Luckily, he notices the faint tone of disappointment with a tint of fear in Marc’s voice and wakes up from his trance.

“Excited?”

Thiago grabs Marc from the front of his shirt and drags him in, closing the door with a loud slam and then throwing him against it to kiss him fiercely. Marc has just a second to react and grab his case. Once inside the apartment, he kicks it unceremoniously to the side, and focuses his hands in the task of re-discovering every inch of Thiago’s body.

_Why is he here?_

“I don’t even care, I’m so happy you’re here.” Marc smiles into his mouth when he hears those words; and Thiago feels incredibly grateful for accidentally saying them out loud.

“I want to know your room.” Marc bites Thiago’s ear and the older man feels like he could come right there, just by how euphoric he feels by having Marc kissing him in his apartment in Germany.

“I could fuck you right here, though.” And just to make his point clearer, Thiago rubs his hardening cock to Marc’s leg. He drinks with a kiss the moan that escapes Marc’s lips.

“Bed first. Your bed.” Thiago doesn’t have to be told twice.

They are already in his room and down to their boxer when Thiago stops them.

“Wait.” He stands up and walks quickly to the living room and returns to the bed with his phone pressed to his ear.

“What the…” But he holds a finger up and then presses it to his lips to make Marc stay quiet.

Thiago remembers just in time to switch to German and greets his boss on the phone. He fakes a cough the best he can, which is probably a pathetic attempt if Marc’s mute laughter is something to go by.

“Yeah, I’ve woken up with a cold... it could be flu, I don’t know. I can’t even stand up. I’m sorry. I can send you some of the numbers and the reports to your email… Okay, yeah. Thank you. No, don’t worry. I’ll rest. Good. Bye.”

He lets his phone on the night table and pins giggling Marc to the mattress.

“You are terrible.” His boyfriend says between fits of laughter. “And you don’t know how to fake-cough!”

“She’s a good boss; I’ll get away with it.”

“Hmm” Marc kisses him, tangling his hand hands on Thiago’s hair to secure him there. He wraps his legs around Thiago’s hips and brings their hips together creating some of the much needed friction. Thiago groans and lets his head fall on Marc shoulder. “Let’s not talk much now, hm?”

\--

They are lying in bed, Thiago enjoying the beating of Marc’s heart under his cheek, and the feeling of his hands running up and down his back. Their muscles are blissfully tired; their bodies numb and out of energy after just too many orgasms. Above all, they are delightfully happy.

“It’s not that I’m not happy you’re here but…” Marc looks down to Thiago. He is looking up at his boyfriend, biting his lower lip.  “How? Don’t you have work? And the money to…”

“Okay, wait. You’ll have to move if you really want to know.” The playful smile is back at Marc’s face accompanied by rosy cheeks and a few strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead.

“I think I better not know” He cups Marc’s face, kisses him chastely and then hugs him tighter.

Marc laughs and pushes Thiago slightly, who grunts in disagreement.

“Come on, you do want to know. I promise.”

Marc stands up and walks slowly around the room looking for his jacket. He finds it near Thiago’s desk and picks it up from the floor. He takes a paper out of one of his pockets and climbs back to the bed.  He waits until Thiago is back in his arms, his back pressed to his chest and arms circling his waist, before giving him the paper.

“Read” he says on his ear and Thiago feels the goose bumps rising all over his skin.

With shaky hands Thiago starts reading a letter that has the seal of a university in Munich he knows well. He doesn’t quite reach the end of it.  He throws the paper away and turns around in Marc’s arms.

“You are staying. Here. With me.”

“I told you that I would come back, remember? That I would be here, with you.” He bumps their noses together and places a soft kiss over his lips. “I basically auto-invited me to live with you, though. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Shut up, shut up.” He holds Marc’s face in both hands and looks at him as if it was the first time. “Do you know how much I’ve dreamt about this?”

Thiago looks at Marc and remembers those first few days, their tentative first kiss, that first time they’d have sex and how crazy he felt for trusting Marc so much, how painful the first weeks apart from each other had been and how slowly, very slowly they’d find a way around each other. He remembers their few meetings, from that first encounter to the last one two weeks ago. And now… and now there won’t be more meetings because Marc sleeping next to him will be the constant, the normal.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” And he kisses him, several times. The salty taste on his tongue lets him now he is crying and he laughs into the kiss, because for the first time in a while they are happy tears.

“I love you more, Thiago.”

They hug each other tightly and Thiago promises never to underestimate the deliciously intimate feeling of having Marc in his arms and his face pressed to the curve of his neck.

“I love you and you are here.” He forces Marc to look at him, his green eyes looking like emeralds product of the tears. “You’re home.”

Marc nods in between giggles and happy tears and brings Thiago in for a new kiss because it is true: he is finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos are appreciated! Comments make me the happiest human alive!


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